I used to tell people that Spin magazine made me gay. I was fourteen, sprawled out on my bed, blasting music from my old 70s stereo sound system (complete with a phono and 8-track) MacGyvered to thump some noise out of four speakers so that the sound waves would attack me from all four corners of my small room, a cocoon of solace for my teenaged angst. This was before the ubiquity of multi-channel surround sound and receivers that could process that (well, at least to a price point for a kid in my neighborhood could afford). I'm listening to my favorite jam of the day. Not sure what it was. Nirvana? Garth Brooks? Gn'R? EMF? But it's one of those cases where I was listening to the same thing over and over again and discovering a new nuance each time. Then I go further and start reading up on people, tracing influences, reading magazines back to back. I got to the classifieds of Spin magazine and my eye catches an ad that asks in big bold letters: Are you gay? And it was right then where that cognitive dissonance dissipated and though I knew the definition, all the antipathy clouded analysis and prevented me from seeing it but it was right then where I thought, "Holy, fuck. I _AM_ gay!" Turns out the ad was from the LA Gay and Lesbian Center as part of their queer youth outreach program and they connected me with other kids locally and abroad who were also figuring things out.
But this highlights my tendency to indulge in something routine and fully immerse myself to unfold the details and then go deeper and get lost in tangents that lead to different discoveries. So now you're left with these weird patchy details about my encounters with my regulars. Some of these guys I've played with well over a dozen times and you've only heard of him once. And other times I can't wait to tell you every detail.
With MusclePussy, it's the same scene every time. He leaves the door unlocked for me and he's waiting for me naked in bed, grabbing his cock without stroking himself, 'cause he's rock hard in anticipation and so severely horny that just a half stroke can push him over the edge. The door to his room is only cracked open just a bit, so I undress in the living room. In those few moments over a few years of the same routine, I've come to find out a few things. Idly looking at things while I tear off my clothes. He cooks. Fond of tomatoes and avocados which make sense, given his incredibly lean, muscular frame. He's really fit. Over 6 feet based on how his long legs fold over my shoulders. And in that position, I just feel taut power when my hand runs over the ripples on his stomach. Beautiful chest. Shoulder caps that look like protective football gear, but made of flesh and pure muscle. But as healthy as he is, he really hates to clean. And that seems especially odd since he works in the medical field based on the mail I see lying around. And yeah, I used the name on the mail to confirm.
But I can't figure out if he's out. He's extremely paranoid about his neighbors hearing him through the thin walls. And the foul things that come out of his mouth tend to skew towards a heteronormative lexicon. He loves calling his ass a pussy. And that fuckin' ass-pussy! He trembles with just the slight touch of his ass. He leaps out of his skin just feeling the heat of my body against his ass. He's tight as fuck too. So tight, I'm expecting him to push me off and scream in pain, but instead he pulls me in and starts babbling, completely overwhelmed in sensation that he has to let go of his cock before he just tightens into a ball and explode like the big bang.
This last time, I'm contemplating how often he gets action and how deeply closeted he is while I'm fucking him. I have a condom on, but I still feel him because how fucking tight he is. And how damn warm he is from the inside. And I'm just trying to process how he can be so damn turned on every single time. Hard as ever before I even get into his room. And I'm thinking, he'd be such a good top. Any bottom would love to feel that piece of steel hammering it into them. But it's probably not topping that gets him that hard. It's bottoming. He's completely wired to it.
And just as I'm thinking that, my cock gets even harder still and I'm fucking him in full strokes now, all the way in and all the way out. And the condom breaks as I tear through his ass on one of the strokes in. His ass tightened even harder because he was cumming. Overload of sensation, now. I feel the raw heat of warm moist hole now, without a barrier, and it envelops me completely as he spasms all around, from the inside out. Before I can even react, I'm pulsing into his ass as well. All that happening all at once brought me way over the edge. And I'm sure I could have pulled out, possibly in time. But in full on selfish cum mode, I just fucked it into him hard. Several hard thrusts that made a loud voilent slap that undid all the pains at trying to keep himself from vocalizing his own orgasm.
"Did you cum?" he whispers. Always eager to please. Always afraid he'd cum too quick before I was close. Fuck, I'm not sure how he missed how violently I spasmed against him and fucked my load deep inside him.
I didn't tell him what happened. I'm such an ass. So the same scene played out as before. Same results, technically. Pretty big differences. And I learned a few more little tidbits about him. And also made an interesting discovery about me.