For a while now, sex has been more of a process to attaining release than an activity of intimacy and ultimately, sexual gratification. I have no idea if it’s my mental disposition lately (I’ve been a lot bothered about my relationship status as a single guy – a lot more than is necessary. Trust me, knowing this hasn’t helped). So, maybe I’m looking for that moment of sexual high with someone I feel emotionally attached to as opposed to the fleeting nature of random hookups.
It’s even worse when I have to play bottom these days. It’s become like a chore. I have to mentally prep myself, ensure I’m emotionally and physically adjusted to the reality and make sure it’s something I know I want to do before even agreeing to it.
For me, playing top is less stressful as it’s a lot easier to detach myself emotionally. Just go in, cum and get out. I now have it down to a science. I find that I can play top to anybody. I mean, everybody. But playing bottom is a lot more involving, and as such, I’m very selective with who I get down with.
However, it’s a lot better when the person I’m looking to get down with is a Versatile; a flip-fuck somehow makes the whole bottoming session a lot easier to handle.
But a Top?
I rarely ever acquiesce to their requests to get down with me.
Me: Sorry, I don’t do Tops.
It’s become a mantra. Most times, the guys in my DM express disappointment (I had no idea people could assume with brazen certainty someone else’s sex role simply by stalking the person on social media or viewing his pictures. *sigh*). Others have the nerve to be doubtful.
“So, you won’t bottom for me?” they would say. “You look like a bottom.”
To hook up these days have become quite exhausting for me. I’m not even on Grindr anymore, and as a result, random hookups have reduced drastically. A good development, I figure – until I sort myself out. That is, get a man who’ll satisfy all my (sexual) needs, so I won’t have to deal with morons online more invested in their sexual gratification than anything else.
I don’t do Tops.
I’ll rather not get down with a guy who is strictly Top because of the unlikelihood of me ever getting my turn at his ass. I have nothing against Strict Tops. I’m just in this place in my life where my sexual needs are dictated by getting as much as I have to give.
It’s not about the other guy being strictly Top; it’s about me not wanting to be strictly Bottom.
So, there I was, hawking with clarity of mind my brand-new sexual predicament when along came Ahmed.
He is Top.
Strictly Top. Says nothing has gone into his behind in over 8 years and he would very much like it remain like that, as his last and first bottoming experience had been hell for him. I respect people’s decisions just as I want mine to be respected, so I didn’t bother pushing the “I’ll only allow you top me if I top you in return”. I simply turned his request for a hookup down.
However, the request quickly graduated to a pleading. He’d insist. Persist. Persevere. This dude really wanted to have sex with me.
And I really didn’t want to (just) bottom!
I thought about the discomfort it might bring me (past experiences with guys who play Top shaped my thinking, in case you’re wondering). The fact that often times, I do not get satisfaction after sex and end up feeling like a tool of masturbation for another at the expense of my anal walls. I thought about tasking it would be to prepare for something that would most likely end up unsatisfactorily for me.
I thought about these and remained adamant in my decision to not hook up with Ahmed, even shutting down his attempts at bringing up the issue during our chatversations on Messenger. Other times, I outrightly ignored him.
After about two months of pleading and promises that I would not regret my decision to get down with him, topped off with the fact that he said he was going to come pick me up at my place (a very good incentive, seeing as being too lazy to go out was another thing that was contributing to my declination), I finally agreed.
And boy, am I glad I did. That night, many things I’d come to accept as sexual norm were corrected.
Firstly, that a Top can give a really good, good blowjob. The Tops I’d hooked up with were either not interested in blowing me or felt their “job” was simply to eat my ass and mine was to suck their dick.
Who made these rules though?
Second, that there are guys who are very comfortable giving you sexual pleasure without expecting you to do anything in return. You just lie there, and they’ll suck every inch of your body, tongue every crevice, bite every bud – until you are tingling from a million sensations and moaning like a well-paid pornstar.
Ahmed brought these realities home to me. And I was loving every bit of what he was doing to me. So much so that I didn’t even know when he slid into my well-dilated, thoroughly-eaten mangina and began thrusting in and out with the solid strokes of a man who knew how to give pleasure. He had me thrashing about on the bed in pure bliss. He would make timed deep and shallow thrusts, pull out completely, devour my nips, go down with a deliberateness that only heightened my sensual sense, then he’d take my penis in his mouth and suck me till my balls would start shooting warning signals of an oncoming orgasm. He got me in such a mood that the Armond Rizzo in me was brought to life that night.
After we had exhausted all the sex styles I knew, we eventually flipped to the missionary position – a position which I don’t like taking with random hookups because it encourages a form of intimacy that I’m not given to allowing myself experience with someone who’s not my partner – and he took my very throbbing dick in his hand, simultaneously pounding me while jerking me off, until my testicles tightened in a climax that promised to be body-shattering.
The first spurt of my cum hit my face. The second hit him on the chest. And the rest were evenly distributed all over my perspiring torso. I was quivering from the force of the ejaculation.
And then he was cumming too. It was quick. Not nearly as dramatic, but he had on a smile, one that seemed to be telling me, “I told you so.”
And yes, he did tell me. When bottoming, nothing beats cumming while being pounded.
Something told me, as I left his house the following morning, that he went out of his zone to please me, and that perhaps, this wasn’t him every time with everyone in his bed. Perhaps, it was him. Perhaps not.
It really didn’t matter.
All I knew was that it was an amazing sexperience. And so now, when I say “I don’t do Tops,” I almost immediately add: “…except you’re a Top like Ahmed.”
Written by Delle