[Promiscuous Top] Fun and Non-Fun

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Why is good sex so freakin FUN? Seriously, you do the same things over and over, there's not a lot to it, but when it's working, it's the most fantastic thing in the world. Tonight was a 180-degree turnaround from something that happened last night that I didn't even bother blogging about, though they were oddly similar situations on paper, and the first experience would have seemed to be the preferable one based on basic parameters. But yesterday was a total bust that left me feeling kind of dejected and depressed, while today I feel like I have a new dick. Who can say?? But fuck, tonight was fun!

First, yesterday. I finished work rather early and cruised various sites and apps pretty hard, but got absolutely nowhere. After an efflorescence of general horniness in the New York City area for the past few weeks, things returned to their previous dry-spell levels. There weren't even many people I *wanted* to hit on, and the ones I did ignored me completely. Sad! But then a guy I have talked to on and off for ages, who always TYPES IN ALL CAPS, hit me up, saying he really wanted one of my big loads. He's an older guy, lists himself as early 50s, but his face pic was very handsome-- gray hair and deeply lined face, but with a lot of character; big nose, big jaw covered with a manly beard, sensitive eyes under a rather brutish, dark brow. Very much a type of mine, actually, and the age added to his looks to be honest. His body looked pretty nice for someone his age, too; very hairy, wiry, but fairly broad across the chest, quite short, just how I like em. He wanted to suck my dick and then have me fuck my load into his hairy body. He didn't have any ass shots posted, so I told him to text me one. He sent one that honestly wasn't that inspiring-- why do bottoms think a top is turned on by a bent-over closeup mostly featuring asshole? *DO* any tops like this? Tops, please reply in the comments if you actually like that sort of photo so I can know someone out there does besides the bottoms themselves who take them. When I asked him I told him, "Send me a rear view so I can see what I'd be working with," and I really wanted just that: a view of the rear of his body. Ah well. I was so horned up and he was handsome enough that I figured even just getting sucked by him would be enough for me; I love seeing handsome manly dudes with my dick in their mouths. He lived way up on the Upper East Side, which is the main reason I never went to jizz in him before. But I had a lot of time on my hands yesterday, so I hiked up there, just as rush hour was starting, and packed myself into a 5 train that was so full there was nothing for me to hold onto, but the sheer solidity of the crowd kept me upright as the train lurched. It took longer than I expected to get up there.

I texted him when I was off the train. He had told me his neighbors were old, bored, nosy people, and he didn't want me to ring his doorbell. I hear doorbell, I think a bell at the door. My friend in Queens has a dreadful bell at his door; its buzzing is worse than the nose in the Operation game that made my 8-year-old self rip the scalpel wire right out of the game every time when it went off. So I figured ok, I won't ring his bell. But what he meant was, DON'T EVEN BUZZ TO GET IN THE BUILDING. I didn't know it was actually possible to open the doors of an apartment building without buzzing; I've only ever lived in a house and a building with a doorman where you don't buzz at all. And I couldn't imagine the buzzer in his apartment being heard by other people in the building. So I buzzed. The door instantly unlocked, and I went up in the slow elevator. I walked down the hall to his apartment, and saw that the door to his apartment was already hanging open. I stepped in as quietly as I could, and closed the door, and he was livid. "I *told* you *over and over* not to ring me!" I was taken aback. A Star Trek episode was blaring at top volume on the giant TV that dominated the room, and he was raving around the living room with his head in his hands. It was completely disconcerting. "This is why I never give out the apartment number! I don't want people to RING!" I tried to explain what I thought he meant, but he wouldn't hear it. Needless to say, I felt very unsexy at this point. But he seemed to want to go through with it, despite me somehow alerting the whole building to his sex life by buzzing his apartment and ruining his life. I wavered, but thought, I can't come all the way up here and not even get sucked off. Sadly, while he was about as handsome as the pictures, his body was in rather worse shape than advertised, and he seemed a little shrunken and sad to me. I couldn't imagine getting into fucking him. But I did like his face, so I went over to kiss him, and we kissed, though my body was still in alarmed, hostile-reaction mode. It wasn't sexy.

I asked him to turn off the blaring TV, and he seemed annoyed. Who in the world could have sex with Lieutenant Worf growling six inches away from his head?? He sighed testily and shut it off. The room became silent as the crypt, and when he drew the curtains, it became gloomy as well. An office chair was conspicuously placed in the middle of the room with a floweredy towel draped over the seat. "Is that the designated cocksucking char?" I asked him. He again seemed annoyed. "We can do it wherever you like. I figured we would do it in the bed. I just use that for my computer," he said. So I looked around the room. The furniture didn't look pleasant to sit on while getting sucked off. So I tuned to look in the bedroom. "OK, let's go in the bedroom, then." And again he was annoyed. WTF! I really just wanted to leave. But I also wanted to ejaculate down someone's throat. So I went and got in the bed. He stood beside the bed, and sucked my extremely limp dick for a good while; even in its tiny, deflated state, his sucking was rather toothy. I figure he'd lacerate me if I was engorged fully. He seemed to finally be getting excited, but I knew I would never get hard. "Sorry, I don't think this is going to work," I said, sitting up and reaching for my shirt. "It's OK!" he said, trying to sound very chipper, though I wasn't sure whether it was for my benefit or his. "We're both men, we can handle it!" I got dressed and he nonchalantly talked to me about how it wasn't a bad ride from Brooklyn, on this train and that train, yadda yadda. I tried to be nice but got dressed fast and left.

I went to get some coffee down the street, feeling completely deflated, and looked around for someone nearby who might want to fuck. It's not exactly a hotbed of ass up there. I got a few nibbles but nothing really to my taste. Another guy who has been hitting me up for ages was a bit further uptown, and suddenly appeared on an app I didn't know he used, and we chatted a bit. He let me know, suddenly, that he only flip-fucks. WTF. I told him I must have led him on by mistake, and said I only top, and he said he never just bottoms. I told him "happy hunting" and he said "let's hook up soon!" and then proceeded to wink and GRRR at me all night long. WTF^2? I gave up and came home and did grocery shopping and cooked dinner for my partner and read a fucking book.

So that meant today my nuts were very full of frustrated cum. Friday is a very hard day to hook up on for some reason. So I didn't have much optimism. But again towards the end of the day, someone promising appeared. He was another older guy-- he advertised himself as being 49, was also quite short, wiry little body covered with gray hair. And he also lived in a spot inconvenient to reach by subway, deep in darkest Bed-Stuy. But Brooklyn I can drive and find parking in. He, however, was very clear that he was safe only; he wasn't even sure he'd let me cum in his mouth, though he said, "Maybe I'll eat your cum." He told me none of his building's buzzers were working, that I'd have to call him from the street. I figured, well, this all sounds very familiar. But I decided to go through with it again.

Traffic was horrid and it took probably 50% longer than it would have to just take the freaking subways. But I found parking right in front. It was a street full of stately old brownstones, though it was a little forbidding in the early evening darkness. I climbed up a mountain of a stoop and texted the guy. Through the parlor window I saw a very cozy fire in a room with exposed brick and some artsy-looking furniture. The dude took his time-- I almost worried I was being blown off. But finally he opened the door.

I was surprised! He was clearly the age the said he was, pushing fifty, but he looked better than his pictures by far. His little body had looked rather ho-hum, naked in photographs on Manhunt, but in person, on his stoop, in a t-shirt and sweat pants, he looked awesome. His face was a rather wise, soulful looking face. He smiled when he saw me and invited me in to that room with the cozy fire. On a table beside the fireplace, disconcertingly, there was a giant pink castle made of construction paper, covered with glitter. There was big art leaning against the opposite wall, and more modern furniture all around; the fire was extremely inviting, burning bright and crackling in its ornate marble mantle. The room was awesome, with high, decoratively-plastered ceilings. The parlor opened to a bedroom in the back, with a mattress on the floor. The place looked like it was only halfway renovated. Some very loud classical music was playing.

We chatted a bit about how long it took me to get there-- he had a very cute, unexpected French accent. I liked talking to him. But I really just wanted to get my shoes and jacket off and put my hands on his sweet little body. He liked being touched and we kissed and his lips were fantastic; I felt him up and he felt me up and we made out hungrily and the fire blazed and I thought, oh yeah, this is what I want. Oh yeah… this is how it should always be.

And for an hour or so we just had insanely fun sex. He loved my dick, and I loved kneading his sweet little ass, and sucking his nips sent him into orbit. We did all the things we do. My dick was throbbing and oozing. I ate his ass, pressing it up to my face with one palm pressed against his pubes, appropriating his little body totally with that gesture-- "I can lift you off the bed and bring your ass up to my mouth to feast on with just one hand," it said, "your body is fuckin MINE"-- and he moaned like I was unlocking a chamber of longing inside him. His asshole accepted my tongue voraciously. His little body was perfect. I wanted to fuck him so bad. I ate his ass and held his dick, which was extremely small and thin, the size of a grocery store hot dog but shorter, but it was hard as a rock and hooded with a velvety foreskin slippery with precum. Grinding my body into his hard, muscular little frame was just SO FUCKING FUN. Why? Why why why. We both had the time of our lives. His limbs wrapped around me as I pounded his little body into the mattress; his hands felt up my back and then gripped my back hair in his surprisingly large hands and pulled it while I ground my dick into his. (I must admit my back hair is getting awfully long, if he can tug at it like that. But he seemed thrilled with it.) I pressed all my weight into him and held his head to me and he looked like he was drowning in pleasure, his blissful face enveloped in my biceps and heaving shoulder muscles. I wanted to fuck him so bad, and he knew it: I kept aiming my dick at his asshole, pressing his buttocks together to make a fuckable tunnel and pounding my body into his, feeling my dickhead graze into his opening from time to time in the assault, and I know he liked it and wanted not to be safe. But I didn't want to spook him or ruin the fun. So I held back.

And then, at the end, I was kneeling beside him-- "I have to suck that dick again," he'd said, pushing my face out of his ass and scurrying around into position-- and he was on all fours beside me, hungrily inhaling my fat bone over and over, and I had burrowed a finger gradually into his ass while he sucked me, and was rhythmically hitting his prostate, and he sucked me harder and harder and I fingered that gland more and more and he slobbered more and more and my dick got harder and harder, the bed got wet beneath us, and my balls let loose and I kept firing into his mouth and probing his gland and he kept fisting his dick and I kept pulsing into him and then I felt him pulsing all around my finger, and he came on the bed. And then I was done cumming in him, and he spat my semen out with a loud, rather obnoxious violence. I laughed, and he laughed too. There was a giant gooey spot on his bed where my cum landed, and smaller gooey drips where he'd shot. I just smiled into his face, and he beamed back at me. "That was fantastic," I said, and pulled him to me and kissed him. The residue of my cum did not taste foul on his breath so I kissed him deeply. I pulled back, and put my hands on his little hips, and appraised him up and down, saying completely unabashedly, "I just love your little body!" And he pawed at my hairy chest and my rough hairy haunches, and said, "I love your body too, you're so big and hairy."

And isn't that just a kind of miracle. I like his body, and he likes my body, and we make each other have orgasms and laugh. The pleasure was so intense, so free, so light at the same time. So good, so fucking fun.

I told him to go wash his mouth out and he did, and we dressed and chatted amiably about his renovation, and a renovation I am trying to get started, and houses we've lived in, places we've lived. The fire had burnt out and was just a warm glow in the hearth, just like our pleasure. I held him and kissed him one more time, and told him to say hello sometime. I hope he does. I wonder if I can work my raw dick inside him? He would be the best fuck of the year, if he let me give him that…

I fuckin love sex.

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