Bottoms Up

My phone buzzed at just after one in the morning. It is not as though I was asleep: the raging hard-on which I was sporting was making sleep impossible. I was just thinking of making my way into the bathroom for some release when the silence was broken by the sound of my phone vibrating on the table beside my bed.

"Come over now?" read the message from the man I had been texting. I didn't know his name, or what he did, or anything about him, really; all I knew was where he lived and what he looked like. That, and what kind of cock he had. I scrolled through our brief conversation and found the images I was looking for. I was lustfully staring at the picture, one hand gripping my hardening dick through my boxers when my phone buzzed again.

"I'm hard as fuck."

'That makes two of us,' I thought to myself.

"Come over. Let's fuck."

Something came over me, then. Perhaps it was the lack of blood flow to my head, or the late hour, or the thrill of hooking up with someone in the dead of the night, but I replied with a mediocre "OK", deftly concealing the eagerness with which I wanted to have some meat inside me. I put on a pair of shorts that would be easy to take off, threw on a ragged t-shirt which was in need of a wash, and crept silently down the staircase and out the front door. I realised I could go back whenever I wanted, but stepping out of the house somehow made things final: I was going to meet this boy tonight, and that was that.

There were hardly any cabs running at this hour, and the place where this mystery man lived wasn't that far away, so I decided to take a walk. Halfway there I realised that this walk was probably not helping my smell, given how hot it was, but I decided to throw caution to the wind; possible also due to the fact that I was thinking with the piece of meat between my legs.

I reached the building and texted him to buzz me in. I also asked for his name, which he chose not to provide. That was fine by me: his name is not what I had walked a kilometre and a half for. The door opened, and I took the elevator up to his floor. It seemed normal so far: the building was decent, unlike the shady, crumbling block I had expected, and my flaccid cock was nestled comfortably against my shorts, displaying an obvious but not ostentatious bulge. I was surprisingly calm for someone who had not done this that often, but I liked the sense of serenity that had come over me.

The elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. He was waiting outside, probably so that I wouldn't have to ring the doorbell and, presumably, wake the whole floor up. How considerate; maybe I could take this beyond a hookup... 'No!' I chided myself. I had done this far too often, where I took something that was purely physical too far and ended up being made a joke of. This was a hookup, and that was that. It was humiliating how, even when standing a few feet away from the guy who would soon be fucking my asshole, I was thinking of my earlier confessions of feelings.

There was that one time that stuck out more than all the rest; ironically, that one time, it hadn't been me who'd confessed my feelings first, but the other guy. We had been seeing each other for some time, meeting on weekends, texting through the week, and having sex whenever we could. We were a couple without the labels, in truth. Then one day, when we were naked and I was on my knees with his cock buried deep into my mouth while he was sprawled naked on his flatmate's bed, he said: "we should date". I think I choked a little when he said that but kept on blowing him. I could feel my hard-on going away even then, but it didn't seem to matter.

I blew him until he came in my mouth, and I swallowed every last drop. Only then did I address what he had said. It took me all my energy to contain my elation and respond with a milder version of "FUCK YES!" I blew him once more that night, and we celebrated our new relationship by having pizza and sex all night long; it was one of those rare nights where I topped, too, and the sensation got me so overwhelmed that I ended up coming in his ass.

"Hey. You OK?"

I looked at him, shamelessly sizing him up. He looked very like his pictures, thankfully. He was about two inches taller than I was, fair skinned, with black hair at that awkward length where it wasn't really long, but came over his eyes and down to his neck. His eyes were a striking hazel colour, though I wondered if that was just the dim lighting in the corridor reflecting off of them. He was wearing a light coloured t-shirt which stuck to his chest and showed off erect nipples. Damn, I was getting hard already.

We reached his door and he pulled out the key. His house had a faint smell of smoke to it which served to make me soft again. Maybe this wouldn't turn out as well as I'd thought. He hadn't mentioned that he smoked when we'd spoken, but, to be fair, I hadn't asked. He offered me some water, which I took, and a cigarette, which I declined with apparent distaste. He looked as though he wanted to light one for himself but decided against it. Thank heavens for that.

He lived in a modest apartment with minimal furniture. There was a table pushed to one corner, under the only window in the living room, which was cluttered with papers, cigarettes, and rolling paper. The only other furniture in the living room was a couch set against the wall adjacent to the door, facing the wall opposite where a TV hung on a brace. A hallway led off towards the right of the door towards the bedrooms. There was an open kitchen to the left of the door which looked as though it could do with some cleaning. I was just about to set the glass down onto the counter in the kitchen when he took it from my hand with a simple "allow me" gesture, during which our hands briefly grazed each other. The touch lit some sort of a spark within me, and I felt myself getting hard at that simple touch.

He took off his moccasins and left them near the door, and so I proceeded to do the same with my flip-flops. He had tiny feet, I noticed, and small hands. I smirked inwardly, recalling the old adage about small hands. 'Well,' I thought to myself, 'we'll know soon enough.' He didn't stop there, though; he went on to take off his trousers and flung them over the couch. I was relieved to see that he wore boxers: something about boxers always puts me at ease, and I find that they are much more to my liking, on other men as well as on me. I could see a very brief bulge, but it was enough to get me fantasising. He caught me staring at his crotch and smirked. He then inserted his thumbs into the waistband and pulled the boxers down in one smooth motion, stepping out of them easily.

For some reason, I was frozen in place by the shoe rack next to the door. I hooked up very rarely as it is, and was thus unaccustomed to half naked men I barely knew with their cocks dangling out, smiling at me. I smiled back, more out of hesitation than anything else. He walked over to where I was standing, taking off his shirt as he walked. He pulled me in by my waist and kissed me lightly on the lips before muttering "should we take this to the bedroom?" against my neck.

I was hard. My throat was parched despite the water I'd just quaffed. All I could manage was a feeble nod. He kissed me again, and this time I kissed back. Our lips locked together in a ferocious grip and the force of the kiss had me pushed back against the door. Our tongues remained within our mouths, occasionally caressing the lips but never making contact with each other. The kiss continued for some time, and I could feel myself slobbering over him a little. I could also feel his bare dick get harder against my thigh until I was sure it was completely hard. I opened my eyes for a second and saw his closed ones twitching as he leant more and more into me. My skin was burning on the inside. Two minutes of this and I was already in heaven.

I broke away from the kiss and jerked my head in the direction of the bedroom. He smirked once more, gave me a little peck on my lips, and led the way. I followed, adjusting my erection through my jeans while checking out his ass. The bedroom itself was as unremarkable as the rest of the house, with a single bed placed below a curtained window, a desk, a chair, and a wardrobe set against the wall immediately to the right of the door, opposite to the wall where the bed was. There was a plain, white bed sheet on the bed, and a thin, uncovered pillow. The bed was large enough for one person to sleep comfortably on, but was not designed to accommodate two men fucking: it would be a tight, sweaty, messy situation, and I was all ready for it.

He lay down on the bed and motioned for me to come over. I took off my shirt and jeans but kept my boxers on. I straddled his thighs and bent forward to resume making out with him. Soon, his hands found the waistband of my boxers and he pulled them down as he had done with his. Unlike his situation, though, my erection sprang out when the elastic passed over it, making contact with his hardening cock. He pushed my boxers down as far as my knees, but couldn't reach beyond that, and so I took them off myself. I threw my boxers onto the floor and nudged myself between him and the wall, such that we were lying on the tiny bed on our sides, locked in a tight embrace.

The kiss seemed to last ages, and we were both very hard. My tongue found his eventually, and the ritualistic wrestling of tongues began. We both seemed to be fighting for control but seemed to be equally eager to relinquish it. I gathered some spit on the tip of my tongue and passed it onto his, and he did the same. We continued this little game until he rubbed the growing ball of saliva onto my lips with his tongue, and pulled away.

"Stand up. I want to see you." He reached over across my back and flipped on a switch, flooding the room with a white light. "Go on," he urged when I refused to move, "get up and stand. I want to see your body."

Deciding that if his cock was going to be up my ass in a while, it couldn't do much harm to display myself, I got up. I walked a little distance away from the bed, all the while facing him, and spread my arms out in a "here it is, take it all in" gesture. I wasn't particularly ashamed of how I looked, so it didn't bother me to be scrutinised in this way. I was nearly six feet tall with a shapely frame and long arms and legs. I wasn't built, but wasn't overweight, either. I did have a little bit of a paunch, but that could be easily hidden with some strong inhalation. I had been told many times that I had a handsome face, with a well-defined jaw line which was peppered with a five o'clock shadow.

The thing I was most excited to display, though, was my cock. It was a shame, really, that I had the cock of a good top, but not the ass of a good bottom, which is what I was. My cock borders on seven inches, making it not very large, but certainly above average. It also isn't very thick, but the head swells to quite the impressive size. On the rare occasions that I had been blown, men had seemed to choke on it, which gave me something of a confidence boost.

The shaft is dark sandy in colour, with the foreskin a shade darker. The head itself is an inky pink, which flushes almost a bruised pink when I get hard. The base is the same shade of my body, which is about two shades lighter than the shaft, but always appears darker because I keep my black pubes closely cropped. The shaft itself is very plain, and you cannot really see the veins crisscrossing through my dick until I am just about to come. The shaft is perfectly straight, ironically, though it arches upwards from the base. My foreskin retracts swiftly, smoothly, and fully, falling in a dense clump around the base of my head. I precum a lot, leading to the head attaining an almost glistening light. The slit itself is almost a light shade of purple, but flares to a crimson-violet when I come.

Of course, I wasn't about to waste this opportunity of voyeurism: I proceeded to do my own examination of my meat source for the night. He was built, plain and simple. The early formations of an eight pack could be seen on his abdomen. His chest was all but bulging out, with dark nipples standing erect. His shoulders arched behind him, studded with muscle, leading to arms which had the characteristic veins of someone who lifts regularly. This was clearly the body of someone who went to the gym almost religiously, and, consequently, the body of someone who could fuck well if he knew how. My asshole loosened up at the thought of that body pushing into mine, and my eyes strayed down to see what I would be playing host to.

I wasn't impressed, but I wasn't disappointed: it was nothing more than what I had expected. His cock, now fully hard, was a little under six inches, I'd say. It curved sharply upwards, almost falling flat on his stomach. His shaft was a pale coloured menace, thicker than I had thought it would be, and with veins running up and down its length. The head was not much larger in breadth than the shaft and was small and largely inconspicuous. It wouldn't hurt much, I could tell, and that was something of a relief: too many times have I had my ass ravaged by someone too large for me to take in. This was perfect.

He had his hand at the base of his cock while he was ogling me so I decided to give him a little show. I turned around, bent over, and spread my cheeks to show him my rosebud. I licked my middle finger, making sure it was nice and slathered with spit, and then inserted it into my hole. I heard a sharp intake of breath and knew that he was jerking himself off looking at me fingering myself. I straightened up, turned back around, and walked over to the bed. Wordlessly, we started making out again.

Then, I couldn't hold it anymore. I broke away from the kiss yet again and started kissing his neck. I went downwards to his nipples, taking the right one in my mouth and sucking on it while pinching the left. After some time, I switched, now sucking on the left one while stroking the right with my thumb. I went further down, kissing his happy trail until I was at his pubes, where I buried my nose and soaked up the musky smell of his cock. And then I began to blow.

I took the head in my mouth and began flicking the slit with my tongue, swallowing the pre-cum as it was formed. Slowly, I took more and more of the shaft in, until my nose was buried in his crotch again, but this time with his dick in my mouth, barely touching my throat. I kept his dick there for some time, lodged in my mouth, slobbering over the head. I licked his shaft up and down with his dick still in my mouth, then collected some saliva on the tip of my tongue and rubbed it along his shaft. I clenched my throat muscles against his head and felt him quiver. I pulled back a little, still keeping his erect cock in my mouth, and began to blow him. I bobbed my head up and down his shaft, gripping his base with my hand and shaking it to the beat of my blowing. Soon, he started thrusting in time with my blowing and jerking, too, and before I knew it, I didn't even have to move my head: he was fucking my face.

He pushed my head away for a second and turned around, offering me his ass. I had fingered assholes before, but never rimmed someone, which is evidently what he wanted me to do. I took a deep breath and gathered some spit at the tip of my tongue. I spread his butt cheeks apart with my hands and deposited my bead of spit in his rosebud. Realising that it was not as horrible as I'd thought it would be, and I began eating out his asshole with new found vigour. Soon, he was squirming in his bed. I used the motion to flip him back over and begin working on his cock again: just because it wasn't bad didn't mean I liked rimming better than blowing.

"Turn around," he gasped, "give me your ass." It was barely a whisper, and there was no question of the power dynamics. He may be the top, but I was the one in control in this situation. The sense of command I held turned me on even more, and I intensified my blowing to match his pace of fucking my face. Then, I turned around and offered him my ass, and he got to work on it with his tongue. His thrusting stopped as he focussed on eating me out, and I reclaimed control of his dick, taking him all in, but never pulling back out completely.

I wanted to get fucked, I decided. I pulled away from his cock and got up off the bed. I walked over to his desk and, as I had expected, found condoms and lube in the last drawer, along with gay and straight porn magazines. Bisexual, huh; who would have guessed? I walked back to him and threw the condom his chest, which he caught easily. He tore it open with his teeth and put it on his cock with an agility I had only seen so far in porn. He got up onto his knees and started stroking his cock with the condom on it, occasionally spitting on it to lube it up some more. I went to the bed and got on my hands and knees in front of him, putting my ass out for him to fuck.

He ate me out some more. I could feel the excess spit dribble down the back of my right leg. Then, I heard the bottle of lube open and a squelching sound. All of a sudden, there was a warm finger inside me, coating my asshole with something gelatinous. He really knew what he was doing, and within moments, two of his fingers were inside me, grazing across my prostrate. I started shivering, and for the first time since getting naked, I felt truly out of control. He pulled out his fingers and I braced myself for his cock, but it never came. Instead, he put some more lube on his finger and into my ass. Wow, he was not taking any chances... I readied myself, yet again, for the cock that was inevitable, but it still caught me by surprise. It didn't hurt much more than I had expected it to, but I could feel the stretch.

He paused after putting the head in, allowing my ass to get used to the feeling. Then he put more and more of his cock inside until I could feel his body against my ass: he was all in. He stayed that way for some time, yet again allowing my ass to get used to his cock inside me. It felt full and a little uncomfortable, but the kind of discomfort that made me feel oh so good. He pulled out a little, leaving most of his shaft and his head buried in my ass, and I braced myself for the first thrust, the one that is the most discomforting. Again, my preparation was useless, for the thrust that came caught me by surprise anyway. And the fucking ritual began.

I pushed back against his body as he pushed into mine. Eventually, we found a steady rhythm we could go on. He would pull his cock out halfway when I went away from his body and push it in when I pushed my ass towards him. After some time of this, he held my ass in place by putting one hand on either side of my waist and started ramming into me. He would pull out until only his head was in my ass, and then slam into my ass until his cock was buried all in. His balls would swing and hit my taint whenever he was all in. His gym training must have been what helped him sustain this motion for as long as he did because when he stopped, my ass was feeling raw.

"I wanna come in your ass," he breathed heavily into my neck from behind, but I was not done just yet.

"I am going to ride you first," I declared, reclaiming the control I had in this situation.

We disjoined, and I pushed him to lie down on his back. He was sweaty and breathing hard. I straddled his thighs again and slowly put his cock inside my ass, eventually sitting on it completely. I started to move up and down on his cock, but I was getting worn out very quickly. I decided to grind against him instead, which seemed to drive him senseless. And so I continued to grind against his crotch with his cock buried inside my asshole. At one point, he screamed that he was going to come, and I promptly got up off his dick: there was no way I was letting him off that easy. I wanted a good fuck and I would get one.