Dear reader,
Forgive me, for I have sinned. I broke my solemn vow to remain a slutty bottom until the end of my days. Sit down while I properly confess my crimes.
I was in the city, visiting for the weekend. I decided I wanted to check out a different gay bar, so I went to Eagle. That could be its own column, but if you are a gay man over the age of 21 — and somewhat of a freak — you should consider supporting this local institution with your patronage. That was the scene of the crime.
You see, I met a guy. He was my same height, but had beautiful wavy hair, was muscular everywhere and had a crazy sexy Brazilian accent. We hooked up in a dark corner — I might not have retained all of my faculties at this point — and decided to hangout for a while. He proposed we go explore some other corners together. I found someone else and he disappeared, when I finally ran into him again he was… busy with another guy. He was in a stall, going at it with the door wide open. I tapped his shoulder, and he said hi but kept going while I watched.
In the midst of this, he pulled me into a stall, where my fellow bottom was waiting for me. Probably capable of benching over 300 pounds, a muscle bottom if I have ever seen one. The guy who pulled me into the stall was… well, going at it with him. I was just watching, innocently having a good time. After a while he pulls me in and tells me to give it a try. I was flabbergasted, me? The guy you just topped? But he was adamant, and I was intrigued, I cannot lie.
So there I went, venturing deeper into the stall to get a taste of the forbidden fruit. The best that I can describe what transpired was, a short spree of an impulse that took over me. I probably did that for a couple minutes, until I thanked the stud in front of me and promptly left.
A changed man, I decided to just go back to the dance floor and try to reconcile with what I had just done. It was strange, but I felt oddly awkward. Nonetheless, I was determined to have a good time for the rest of the night.
Then there was him, Bruno. 6'3, big arms and a handsome face that made eye contact with me when I went back to the play area. He was enjoying some fellatio from two other guys — quite cute. He called me over, and we started making out — yeah, those two were still going at it. Then at some point he pulls them aside so I can give it a go. It was great.
We had a synchrony going on, so after about an hour of fooling around he exchanges numbers with me. After leaving the bar, I saw him in the distance, he had texted me.
I ran over to say hi, we decided to walk home together — holding hands of course. I was smitten. We got to talking, he was charming, funny and visiting just like me. I learned he was married (his hubby and him are open, don't you worry reader), and I also accepted his offer to keep walking 30 blocks to his place.
He was quite amused it was my first time topping. He mentioned to me that he used to bottom once upon a time. We got to his place and what followed can only be described as the best I have ever had in my life — like until 7 a.m. in the morning kind of best. Around three hours in, an idea popped into my brain, I offered to top him. And top him I did, until the most intense release I have ever experienced.
He still reminded me I was there to bottom though, flipping me around to get back to regular programming. After some cuddles, and missing all my plans with my friends when I crashed back at my hotel until 2 p.m., it finally dawned on me what had transpired.
Bruno and I kept texting, and we hung out for the next two days. We even went back to the bar to finish what we started — and what a bang to end on.
After collecting my sleep deprived and degenerated self from the bar and heading home on the OurBus, I pondered on the pounding of the weekend. It might have been a fluke, or maybe I enjoyed my time topping, but I knew I was not abandoning my bottoming. It’s too good.
So here I am, a changed man, but still an unrelenting bottom. I am back to my routine of taking rather than giving. I definitely gained a greater appreciation for tops, and a new friend that will be reading this story — and hopefully visiting soon.
Always yours,
Jack Strap off.
