TOP MAN
by Pete Brown. petebrownuk @ pobox.com Read all of Pete's stories in groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
You may have seen me if you like dancing. It's one of the things I do well, and I like the excitement of the pulsing beat and the sweaty bodies of the other men around me. Mind you, you have to go to one of the special clubs, one of those where only proper men are admitted - no mincing little queens just there to eye up the real men - and where the dress code is strictly jocks and boots only on the dance floor.
You'll remember me if you have seen me. Even in a crowd of defined, fit guys I stand out - at 6'4" I'm taller than most of them, and my muscles are hard and lean from my labouring job: some guys are just gross, where they've spent too long in the gym on weights machines, but I don't do that. I don't need to - I work bloody hard on the construction site, doing all the "grunt" work the machines can't, and that keeps me fit enough and gives me the muscular development most other men would kill for.
I don't go for the shaved head look. My thick black hair is down to a quarter of an inch all over, with the sides and back sharply razored, except for the middle two inches which I keep at three quarters of an inch so that it looks a bit like a Roman soldier's helmet plume. I like to look distinctive like this, even when I've got clothes on. My name, I'm Mark, by the way, is tattooed on the side of my neck so you can see it even when I've got a formal shirt on. And in a polo shirt you'll also see the two bands tattooed around my biceps - I like the way it emphasises them as I move my arms, and I always notice other men looking at the designs - the barbed wire effect gives them a clue to my nature, I hope.
Most people probably pick up first on my nose ring, though - It's solid silver, and it's not one of those silly little things some queers wear through the side of the nostril - it's big and solid, about an inch and a half in diameter, and is punched right through my septum to hang down over my upper lip. Some geezer had the temerity to ask me to rim him a few weeks ago - silly fucker: couldn't he see that with something like that in my nose I was hardly going to stick it up his ass. Couldn't he guess that a man who wears a ring like that is not that sort of guy? I had to slap him around a bit to give him the idea that I wasn't there to do stuff that he wanted - he was there solely to pleasure me, and that means having his ass fucked long and hard. I'm what you might call an aggressive top: I know what I want, I have a big cock, and I know how to use it. I don't put up with any time wasters or any negotiation - if you and me are together and I've fixed to have sex with you, then you will. You'll do exactly as I say to give me my satisfaction, or else I'll get nasty - and I can get very nasty, and you wouldn't want to put yourself up against my 250 lbs of packed muscle as you'll lose anyway.
Once I'm on the dance floor, though, I tone it down a bit. I can lose myself very quickly if the rhythm's right, and I don't really care what the blokes round me are doing - I like to do my own thing and really work at it so that the sweat pours off me and soaks my jock.
If I didn't do anything about it I'd have a really big, dense thatch of my wiry black hair all over my chest, so I keep it trimmed short - I shave it down to about half an inch regularly so that you can see my muscles move properly. It enhances the nipple rings, of course, as you can see them better against my big, dark aureoles when I keep my chest fur short. I've got no time for those silly little nipple bars and open rings you see around, often in only one tit. My rings are proper men's ones, big, heavy, and soldered closed permanently. As I dance, they bounce up and down to my body's beat, and I'm aware of my nipples - you know how it is: without a proper ring in your nips just sit there until another guy starts to torture them. But with good heavy rings you always know they're there, as you get little bursts of sensation every time you move.
I shave off the treasure trail of hair that would go on down around my navel to my pubes, as I want to display my six-pack properly and you can't do that when it's covered in hair. I leave the tuft that grows at the base of my spine, though, at the top of my ass crack - I find that's a sexy turn-on when I look at another guy, and I don't mind giving that little pleasure to the men who are always eyeing me. I don't shave my arms or legs, of course - I think a good covering of hair there is manly, and one of the minor pleasures of being in bed with another guy is feeling the sensation of hairy arms and legs sliding over each other - that's one of the differences I notice from when I used to fuck women, who either are hairless, or who shave themselves.
Anyway, as usual on a Friday night, here I am, dancing away. I've had a couple of pints, but no more - the music and the dancing is enough to get me worked up, and I don't like the loss of control that too much drink brings. I like to be in control. I like to feel all the sensations happening to me. I like to change what's going on if it's not right for me. So I really only drink enough just to get me started, and to fill my bladder with piss - that's another little pleasure of mine: continuing to work, or dance, or fuck, or whatever when my bladder's saying it wants to relieve itself. It just adds that extra sensation. And of course if the guy I'm fucking is really misbehaving, or not properly appreciative, I'll just let it out anyway all over him - it's really funny to see them react as my hot piss suddenly streams over them. Some of them start to shout and scream, and I have to give them a slap to shut them up, but some just burst into tears - and these are big, grown, virile men, too.
I go to the bar for another pint after about two hours, and there's the usual crowd of watchers standing there cluttering up the place. I don't wait in lines or queues, so I just push them aside to get to the bar - none of them dares say anything, of course, as I look pretty fierce to those who don't know me, and I've got a certain reputation for dealing with people who piss me off with the regular crowd.
The barman serves me straight away, of course, as he doesn't want trouble. I'm standing there about to take a big swig when I feel a hand on my naked ass! "Nice tat there", a voice says. Oh, I didn't tell you, did I, that as well as the bands around my biceps and my name on my neck, I have the words "Don't even try to fuck me" on my left ass, and on my hipbone, just above my cock, I have "Fuck tool". Last time I went to the public swimming bath the attendant tried to tell me to wear big swimming shorts to cover these up, as "they were causing offence" as they were visible outside the tiny Speedo I wear - he really needed sorting out, and I had to be quite aggressive to make him shut his whining.
Anyway, I'm not used to being felt up. It's me who picks out the guy I'm going with that night, and me who makes the first advance and makes the running. I start to turn around, and I think I'm going to smash the guy in the face, to keep up my reputation and remind all the other guys who hang around in this club who's in charge. But something stops me - I don't know what - perhaps it was his tone of voice. Usually men who dare to speak to me are a bit timid, or hesitant, but this guy sounded supremely self-confident, as if he'd always been in charge all his life. So I turned around slowly to see what was what. I guessed he was around my age - 28. He was only about 5'10 or 5'11, but nicely proportioned - broad chest, narrow waist, no fat anywhere, and in a jock and brown leather work boots, like me. At least he wasn't one of those guys who are ashamed to strip off in a club to show you what they've got. I hadn't yet picked out the ass I was going to fuck that night, so this one would do, I thought to myself.
"So you like tattoos?"
"Yes, but not on me. I think they add something to a certain type of bloke. You got any more.... Mark?". As he had been speaking, he'd looked at my neck and read my name.
"Yes. And it is Mark." I pushed down the top of my jock so he could see the words "Fuck Tool" - that's the only problem with jockstraps, they are too big, and cover you up too much. I'd thought of wearing a black leather pouch, but when I tried one on I didn't like the way the string up my ass crack rubbed at my hole.
"So, you think it's worth drawing attention to your tool, do you?". He was almost arrogant in his self confidence, so I thought I'd shut him up. I pushed my jock down to my knees, and flipped my cock to shake it lose from my big, low- hanging balls where the jock had confined it. The crowd around us at the bar had gone almost totally silent, and were enjoying this unexpected display. I didn't care, of course. When you've got a body like mine, and are hung like me, you don't mind showing it to anyone, at any time. I personally like the feel of shaved balls, as they're so much nicer when you cup them in your hands, and so I'm smooth there: a guy can't fuck another guy every night of the week, so I do need to wank myself most of the time, and I like to fondle my balls as I'm doing it. I've also shaved most of my pubic hair off, as I like the way that just a tiny bar of hair above the cock emphasises it - when I had my big thick forest of hair there, even my oversize cock looked relatively small. My cock ring's a permanent feature, too: I don't like those leather things with press studs to close them, or those rubber rings you have to tease your tackle through, so when I was having my big nipple rings permanently installed I had a good solid band soldered on permanently around me tackle, too. I don't really need it to emphasise my shape, but I do like the way it pushes me forward just that bit more - I'm erect more often, I think, as my cock's always being made to rub against my Jeans.
Without hesitation the guy reached forward and took my cock in his hand. He sort of weighed it, rolling it around in his palm. He casually pushed my foreskin back with his thumb, and used his first finger to stroke across my moist cock head and piss slit. I had to stop myself from jerking back, almost involuntarily - you know how sensitive your cock head can be when it pops out for the first time in a night.
It's not that I mind having my cock handled - I quite like making the men I'm going to fuck worship it a bit first, and I usually get them to stroke it, then suck it, before we get on to the serious business of fucking. But it was the assumtive way that he had of believing that it was all right to handle me like this that I objected to This arrogant fuck needed to be taught a lesson, I was beginning to think.
"Yes, you'll do. My place or yours?"
I've told you I'm an aggressive top, and I'm used to making the running. I usually select a guy I like the look of, then hit on him. Most of them don't refuse, as they're excited by my body, and they have some feeble attempt at negotiation.... You know.... "What do you like doing, then?", as if it wasn't obvious that I liked fucking! Over half of them seem to have some strange idea that they can somehow "tame" me in bed, and they want to start kissing and fondling me, and even to try to get me to take their cocks up me. Fat chance - the only thing I'm interested in is getting up their holes as quickly as I can, and shagging them hard. They're the ones who are surprised when I leave them sore and panting, pumped full of my juices.
So this was very strange. I decided to play along - I'd let this guy, who was obviously also a top, pick me up, and I'd play along with him. He was going to get such a surprise when we were finally naked and he found out the only thing I wanted to do!
"Uh.... As you like. My place is a bit of a mess at the moment...". Actually, it isn't. I can't bear mess and clutter. I hardly own anything - just a few Ts, a couple of pairs of Jeans, a couple pairs of boots, a few pairs of socks, and donkey jacket for the Winter. I don't have a car, stereo, TV, or any of that consumer crap - I like to live a simple life, working hard and playing hard, and the rest of the time just sleeping. I don't own my place, of course - it's too tying. I rent a room and a bathroom on the top floor of a house owned by a couple of gay guys - well, rent isn't really the word, as I don't pay them anything. I'd met one half of the couple when his partner was away on a business trip, and after I'd fucked him he asked me where I was living. At that time I really was renting, paying a lot of money (this is London, remember!) for a really seedy place miles out in the burbs. He took me upstairs and showed me the room I now have - really big, spacious and airy, all white, and with a new double bed. And the bathroom had a really big bath, and a power shower.
He asked me if I wanted to rent it, and I told him I didn't think I could afford it as I was just a labourer, and he told me I could live there rent-free!
He and his BF had been having a bit of trouble with the neighbours - a load of arrogant blacks were jeering at them in the street, it seems, and they wanted a sort of bodyguard. Well, from the moment I moved in I soon sorted out the blacks - when there was a crowd of them hanging around in the street one day after I'd moved in, I went out with one of my landlords and snogged him long and hard on the front step (I don't usually do kissing, but there's nothing wrong in it, after all). When the blacks started to jeer, I picked out the ring leader and slapped and punched him a few times - he was a big, arrogant guy who thought he knew what he was doing, but he wasn't used to dealing with a tough like me. There's been no more trouble since then, of course, and we still all three live in the same house. The whole area has "moved up", and there aren't any blacks around now, but I've just stayed on.
The guys are still pleased to have me there, as I don't mind them having a look at me from time to time - they'll hear me running the shower, then "innocently" walk up the stairs to ask me something. I don't bother to shut the bathroom door, and I don't mind them looking. And if I'm there alone on Saturdays and Sundays, they'll bring me a cup of tea up so they can feast their eyes at my naked body lolling on the bed, barely covered by the sheet.
Actually I've used them once or twice, too. They wanted me to be a man sandwich, but there's no way I'd do that - I don't let men up my ass. But if I've got no better prospects, I'll sometimes fuck both of them.
One's a top and the other's a bottom normally and actually I envy them a bit as they have a really good relationship. When I get into their bed, though, they're both happy to have me up them as it's a bit of a treat for them to have a hard body like mine under their hands.
Well, as I say, the place wasn't in a mess, but it sounded the sort of reason he'd think plausible, and I wanted to see his place. I always like to see where the other guy lives, especially if I'm expecting it to be a rough time.
"My place, then", he said. "Let's get our things."
We went into the changing room and got our outdoor stuff from the lockers. I of course stripped off my jock before pulling my Jeans on, as I always do. I can't bear underwear, and don't see the point. His eyes were watching me as I did this, and I just looked back at him. He left his jock on, though, and pulled expensive looking grey slacks on. He had to change his boots, too, into black loafers, and fiddled around whilst he fastened a semi-formal shirt, retrieved a jacket and a topcoat. I didn't bother with any of this - I just pulled my donkey jacket on, and felt the rough fibres scratching at my naked body - what's the point of dressing up, when all you're going to do is take it off again? It was so much easier just to stuff my jock into my jacket pocket, and I was ready.
"I'm Jon, by the way", he said conversationally as he was dressing. As if I cared.
"So, Mark, what do you like doing?" What a wanker! Fancy waiting until now to find out what the other guy likes. I felt like saying that all I liked doing was fucking hunky young guys like him, hard.
But instead, as I thought it would make the surprise a bit more intense for him, I muttered as if embarrassed
"Well, you know, most things...."
"So kissing, stroking, wanking, sucking, fucking.....?"
"Yes... " I did, of course, like all of this. I'm not wild to have another guy's tongue down my throat, but I like it when they worship my body by caressing and stroking it, and I've told you I don't mind a hand and a mouth around my cock as a bit of preliminary warm-up to the main business. But I wasn't going to do those things to him!
"We should have a great time, then". Well, I would, at least.
"Come on, then, let's find a cab."
Hey... Look... Cabs are expensive after eight o'clock... I'm not sure..."
"It's on me. I want to get that gorgeous body of yours in my bed as soon as I can, before you change your mind!" Changing my mind was the last thing I was going to do - he was just the sort I liked - good body, and arrogant, just waiting to be fucked senseless by me.
In the cab I let him open my donkey jacket, and he was soon running his hands all over my upper half, paying particular attention to my nipple rings.
"You really have got a stunning body", he told me, and leaned over to kiss me. I turned my head away.
"Oh, come on... I thought you said you liked kissing!"
So I gave him a foretaste of what was to come. I put one hand behind his head, and thrust my tongue deep down his throat. At the same time, I grabbed at his crotch with my other hand, and felt him go erect through the fabric of his slacks. I basically tongue fucked him for a couple of minutes, then pulled out, but I kept my hand firmly on his crotch - I wanted him to start to feel who was the boss here.
But he didn't understand, or didn't want to understand, as he started to kiss me again, and was probing down the back of my Jeans now with his hand - I could feel one finger sliding down my ass crack from the top. I guessed the cabby must have been rather surprised to see two guys going at it like this, but who cares? I responded by massaging and stroking his cock, then I stopped, pulled down his zip, and went at it again from inside his slacks, allowing me to get my hands on his cock and balls completely. He was starting to leak precum over my fingers, and so I pulled them out and presented them under his nose, and then pushed them roughly into his mouth.
"Suck that", I whispered. Lowering your voice always seems to put the other guy more at ease, I've found, and leads them on. He sucked at my fingers greedily, and I knew I had him - no top really sucks at another guy like that! He must be putting on some sort of act. I really don't understand why some bottom guys do this - there's nothing wrong with being a bottom, after all - a top needs a good supply of them, and there's no shame in it. So why do so many guys pretend to be tops, when so few of them, like me, truly are?
It's like the way so many guys pretend to be straight.
I've fucked a lot of men who have wives, or say they have. If my experience is anything to go by, it's just as well that artificial insemination techniques are improving all the time: the number of so-called "straight" guys I've fucked must mean something - once they've tried proper sex, with a hot cock up them, they don't want to go with a woman ever again. And I suppose we do need women to carry on breeding. Still, if you can get them pregnant with a turkey baster, that seems a good way to do it to me. Real men only want to go with other men. And, after all, that's why an ass hole is so perfectly sized for a cock - it must mean something, in spite of what those stupid busybody Christians keep saying about it being wrong. How can something that two guys do together possibly be wrong?
Well, his flat was pretty nice - one of those warehouse conversions, that cost a fortune. He was starting to show his inexperience - asked me if I wanted a drink as soon as we got through the door, instead of getting down to the business.
"No, nothing to drink."
He just sort of stood there, looking at me.
"So what shall we do then....?"
Jesus fucking Christ! This guy is supposed to be atop, and he's asking me what to do!
"I thought you were a top?"
"Yes, but I like the other guy to have fun.."
"Well, I like fucking...."
"Right - come on into the bedroom then." I though he'd never get around to it!
The bedroom was pretty nice, too - big bed, all natural sort of fabrics, plain wooden floors, bare brick walls.
"Why don't you slip out of your clothes, then", he said to me. Fuck me - why didn't he come and strip them off, if he was supposed to be in charge?
I dropped my donkey jacket onto the floor, and he looked admiringly at my upper body and nipple rings. I'd been sweating In the cab, and my skin and the rings glinted under the spotlights in the ceiling He started to take off his shoes and socks, then dropped his slacks and stood there in his shirt and briefs.
I undid my Jeans, and dropped them. I was now of course completely naked as I don't wear underwear, and my cock was rock hard. I saw him looking at me, and at the shining silver ring around the root of my cock and balls.
He carried on staring, so I said "What's the matter - never seen one as big as this before?"
"No - it's that ring.... "
"So - perfectly normal cock ring. I like the feel of it. I like the way it weighs my cock and balls. And I like the way it thrusts me up and out all the time."
"Yes, but..."
"But what?"
"Well..."
I think it was at this point that I got bored. I'd intended to play along a bit more, but this was too fucking slow, and I wanted action now. So I simply went over to him, grabbed his wrist and before he could do anything, I twisted it around and pushed it high up his back.
He squealed in surprise, and before he could do anything I pushed him over towards the bed, and forced him onto it, face down. I threw myself on top of him, letting go his arm but catching both his wrists now and holding them in front of his head. I felt his hot body under mine, and I moved myself a bit so that my cock was nestling into his ass crack. I leaned forward and whispered in his ear "So, what now?"
He must have known he was helpless. I'm a heavy guy, as you know, and with his arms pinioned out in front of him and my whole body forcing his down into the bed, he should have realised that he was in my power. But he didn't give up, I'll say that for him!
"I want to fuck you", he mumbled into the bedclothes.
I twisted my body off his, slapped him really hard on his ass, and flipped him over onto his back. A quick twist and I was back on top of him, this time with our chests pressed close together. Our legs were intertwined, and my cock was pushing hard against his.
I gasped his wrists again with one hand, and pushed them above his head.
Thrusting my face down towards his, I whispered "You want to fuck....?"
"Yes. I want to fuck you."
"You want that hard cock of yours up my ass...?"
"Yes."
I stopped the conversation at this point as I moved my head down and took his left nipple in my mouth. I sucked it for a moment, then nipped it with my sharp teeth - not enough to cause the flesh to break, but enough to cause him to cry out. His whole body bucked under mine, and I knew he was experiencing that peculiar excitement that you get when you really don't know whether it's pain or pleasure. It's worse because he knew he was helpless - with his hands above his head, and my body on top of his, there was no way he could move. I reached down and nipped him again, and was rewarded by the feeling of his body again thrusting upwards into mine as a little scream came out of him.
I reached down between us with my other hand, and grasped his rock-hard cock. He was cut, so there wasn't the excitement of a foreskin to play with - I do wish parents wouldn't have their kids doctored like that, as it really does spoil some of the pleasure. I raked my thumb nail across the head, though, allowing it to catch in his piss slit, and I felt a tremor run through him as he lay crushed underneath me, and a little moan escaped from his lips.
"So you want this fuck tool up my ass?"
"Yes!"
This guy had to be a trier, I thought. Didn't he see that he was totally in my power already? Although he was fit and muscular, there was just no way he could compete with me.
"Well, I've got a better idea. I want my cock up your tight ass."
"No - I don't do that."
I almost laughed. It wasn't a question of what he did, or did not do. It was really only about what I wanted, and he couldn't see that Never the less, I decided to play along, and see what transpired, so I rolled off him and lay by the side of him.
"Yes, Mark, I'm going to fuck you". He was getting bolder now. "I'm going to push this cock of mine up your muscular ass, then ride you like you've never been ridden before."
He twisted around, pulled open a drawer in the bedside cabinet and got out a tube of lube. After smearing some on his fingers, he knelt beside me and reached down and tentatively tried to push one finger up my hole. Actually, I don't mind that so much - I like to see how far a guy will try to go with me. He pushed, hard, and I felt his finger slide in. I decided to encourage him, so I moaned quietly.
"Ah, that's a good boy", he crooned quietly. "That's good, isn't it Mark... You like to feel a man's fingers up your ass, don't you?"
Still encouraging him, I whispered back, as I'd heard so many guys before do, "Oh, yes, Jon.... Do that again."
Actually, it wasn't bad. He'd got two fingers in now, and my ass was relaxing. He knew what he was doing, and he'd managed to tickle my prostate so that I had twitched involuntarily with the pleasure, and I knew my cock was leaking pre-cum all over his nice clean bed cover.
He pulled out, and I saw him reach into the cabinet again. He got out a condom and eagerly tore the foil open. I could see him sweating and breathing hard, and he was clearly excited. He massaged the condom down over his cock, and squirted a bit of lube over it and rubbed it in.
"You don't have to use that", I murmured.
"NO, Mark. I always use a condom."
That's what I like to hear. I never use condoms myself, as I like the real sensation of my hot cock inside a guy's warm, moist ass. You just don't get the same enjoyment when you have that disgusting covering over your manhood. I always fuck bareback, but I am always worried about catching something - that's why I tend to fuck inexperienced guys, to reduce the risk. I'd been going to fuck him anyway, but now I knew that this top always took precautions, I felt a lot safer - not that that would have stopped me, actually, as once I'm in full rut I really don't care - possessing and filling the guy's hole is all that matters.
"Turn over", he said to me in a low voice. And this was meant to be a top, remember - there was no note of command in his voice at all. I'd been lying on my stomach, so I moved to lie on my back. He was kneeling beside me, his sheathed cock hovering over my belly, and he went to move between my legs.
"Jon... Do you do poppers?"
"Oh, sure....". He reached into his drawer again and got out that oh so familiar little brown bottle. Opening it, he took a couple of deep snorts, and passed it to me. I don't need poppers to fuck a guy, but I actually like that feeling of loss of control, the flush of heat, the raging of blood to your head..... So I took a couple of deep snorts and screwed the stopper back on.
"We lay there just looking at each other, and I knew he was like I usually was - all primed to fuck, slightly inflamed from the poppers, and entering into that very special state of acute sexual ecstasy you get when you're about to go into action.
He was totally amazed therefore when I sat up, grasped his shoulders, pushed him back onto the bed, and reached down and tore the condom off him. He was so near to cumming, that it only took a couple of jerks for me to cause him to shoot his load up and over his belly. I don't mess about when I want to bring a guy off - I grip his cock really hard, dig my fingers down into the root of it so that he starts to squirm, then rasp my hand up and down his shaft really hard.
He started to cry out, but he'd shot his load and I continued to jerk at him, causing him to start screaming - he must be one of those guys who is ultra sensitive after cumming, as I wanted to milk as much cum as I could from him.
I scraped the cum off his belly onto my hand, then roughly turned him over onto his face. I quickly straddled him, and felt his hot sweaty thighs under my ass, and reached forward and pushed his head down into the bed, thrusting my strong fingers into his neck muscles so that he would be in agony if he tried to resist. With my cum-soaked hand I reached down and crudely and without caring for him at all started to lube his hole - I soon had three fingers up, and he was making moans and tiny screams into the bedclothes.
I sometimes fuck a guy dry, but I think this it's more pleasure for me to have a hole nicely lubed. Those lubes you buy dry out too quickly, and I find that the guy's own cum is much the best lubricant - that's why nature made us that way, after all. And it's so much more natural - some guys have to travel around with condoms and lube, but I'm always ready - a few quick jerks at the other guy, and I'm ready to go.
It fits into my philosophy of life - no possessions, no baggage - you need to rely on yourself absolutely.
I'm always ready to fuck an ass that turns me on, as I just get in there and do it.
As I was doing this, I was wondering how I should fuck him. I usually take the other guy on his back, as I like to watch his face as I push my cock up him. But I thought it might be more humiliating for this top to be fucked just like an animal.
I stood up briefly, and as he started to move, pulled him to the edge of the bed so that his body was still on it but his legs were over the side. I again reached forward and pushed his head down into the bed covers, then kicked his legs apart, and stood between them. Before I thrust my cock into him, I slapped him really hard two or three times on his ass, so that it started to glow red: I wanted him to really be primed to feel my body as it rammed into him in a few moments.
Even though I'd opened him up he was still amazingly tight, and I had to push hard to get my cock head through his sphincter - he was squealing away like a stuck pig, and I was glad the noise was muffled by the bed covers.
Then I fucked him - first slowly, pushing my cock gently in and out to its full extent. He relaxed a lot, and his screams turned into little moans - he was enjoying this!
Some guys like to go on for a long time like this, but I don't have all that much patience and anyway my balls were sending me urgent messages that they wanted to fire. And before that, I like to really dominate the other guy by going at him hard - if I just carried on gently, after all, the other guy wouldn't know who was really in control!
So I changed my stroke, pulling out quickly and slamming back hard so that his ass slapped against my belly. I went on and on, quicker and quicker, as my lust and passion, fuelled by the poppers, took total control of my body. I could dimly hear him crying out, but I didn't care. My own body was consumed with pleasure, and I revelled in the sensations flooding my brain - not just the physical ones from my cock, but the utter feeling of power and domination it gave me to be so totally in control of this other man.
It was over all too soon - I sometime want these feelings to last for ever. I felt my balls contract, and then I was shooting my cum high up inside him. I gave one or two last thrusts, and almost shouted aloud myself as my cock responded to the draining of my balls by sending that exquisite shivering sensation through me... Almost pain, but almost total pleasure.
I collapsed forward on him, my cock still buried in his ass, so that my sweat-soaked chest was pushed into his back. I released the pressure on his neck so he could raise his head, and he started to mutter "You bastard. You fucking cunt. You...."
"Shut up!", I snapped at him. "You've just experienced a real top. So quit whimpering and complaining, like some mincing queen."
"Look - the deal was that I was going to fuck you..."
"Deal? Don't make me laugh! You don't deal and negotiate about sex. Real men take what they want, when they want it. Now stop whining."
"...and you fucked me bareback."
"So....?"
"You bastard - I don't do bareback."
"Well that's the only way I do it. So quit complaining. Now you know what it's like to take a real hot cock right up inside you. You've had a real man have real man sex with you. Some guys actually want that, you know...!"
I had toned down the note in my voice now so that I was no longer shouting, just being reasonable. I wanted to leave Jon on as good terms as possible- I might want to come back, after all.
"You raped me..."
"Look, Jon. You invited me here. You never asked me what I wanted. You were happy enough to try to go up my ass. Now recognise that you weren't man enough to tackle a real top, the first time you ever had one here. "
I pulled out of him now, and stood over him, my cock covered in his ass juices.
"You fucker, you absolute bastard....."
"Shut the fuck up, Jon! I've heard enough. You open your mouth one more time and I'll use it to clean my cock."
I guess he knew I wasn't joking, because he just lay there, starting at me, with hate in his eyes.
I strode into the bathroom, and took a leisurely shower. I've been here before - some guys who get more than they expected do get upset, but I've never had one ever take it any further. I came out, drying myself on one of his big, white, fluffy towels. He'd pulled on shorts, and was sitting on the edge of the bead, his head in his hands.
"What' the matter?"
"Look, you fucked me bareback."
"Yes. You should try it sometime. That's the way real men do it. Condoms are for wimps. Real tops experience the real thing."
"It's not safe."
"Rubbish. You're clean, I imagine - you told me you always use a condom when you fuck other guys. Well, I only fuck clean guys! So you're OK. In any case, 'safe' isn't what it's all about. It's about pleasure - about domination, about that feeling as a hot, raw cock fucks a firm, juicy ass. Real men want total pleasure, and that's bareback."
"You've just got of a bit of a sore ass", I continued, "And your pride is hurt. But learn from it - see how a real top operates: none of this 'what would you like to do' crap - you do what you want."
As I was speaking, I'd pulled on my Jeans, socks and boots, and picked up my jacket.
It was late and I didn't fancy taking a night bus, and I hate wasting my money on a taxi.
"You want me to stay the night and fuck you again?", I asked conversationally.
"No, you bastard. Get out!"
"OK - cool it! But I need a taxi home."
I reached out for his jacket, took out his wallet, opened it and pulled out a couple of twenty pound notes.
"You won't mind paying for my ride home, then, will you?", I said cheerily, and left him, still sitting there.
It was after midnight when I got back to my flat, and I stripped and just collapsed into bed. I didn't have to go in the following morning as it was a Saturday, and one of my landlords woke me with a nice cup of tea.
"Thanks, mate", I muttered, still half asleep.
"You had a late night, Mark...."
"Yes. And it was a good fuck. Just thinking about it makes me horny. Call Bob, then both of you get in here with me - I need a bit more pleasure this morning".
THE END.