He Called My Asshole A Pussy,... And I Liked it

One night I went to Incubus NYC. While I was getting undressed, my peripheral vision caught the frame of a hot naked body. I then got inspired to look more directly at the person. That's when I saw that as he continued walking, a beautiful semi-erect cock swinging, and a profile of a nice ass. An ass that as I watched his back showed itself to be a sweet, juicy bubble butt.

At which point, I could foresee me and him fucking. And even though I was trying not to set myself up for disappointment, I did say to myself, "Damn! I want a piece of that."

And I didn't want him as my bottom. I wanted him as my top.

After I got undressed down to my underwear, I went upstairs. That's where he was. Sitting on a couch with guys crowding him. While they were crowding him, I saw him looking at me. So I wound up in the mix. The guys swarming in seemed to become too much for him, and then he left. I knew I wasn't part of what overwhelmed him, but my suspicions of how they made him feel made me leave as well.

We soon after met up in the backroom of Paddles. We started making out. He then did something to me that I often do to guys when making out with them. He started massaging me. It was making me melt, and I let him know that. So he offered me a full-on massage.

I laid down on the medical table in that backroom. He started massaging me while he stood on the floor. Every time part of his massage positioned him moving pass my face, the sight of his swinging dick, hanging balls, and thick well defined thighs made my dick start growing underneath me. So much that I started wondering if I could end up cumming from the friction of his massage making my repeatedly growing cock rub against the soft cushions of that medical table.

My repeatedly growing cock stayed hard when he decided to continue his massage by getting on top me with his naked body. So now, I had those fit thighs on each side of me. As well as his equally fit calves. And it was heaven on earth feeling his dick and balls rubbing against various parts of my backside. Especially when his massage moves made his dick slip down the crack of my ass.

He was massaging me for so long that for a moment I thought  he was only going to give me a massage. But I was more so hoping that the massage was to relax my body for a nice hard butt-fuck from him.

Then he said something leading to me to an answer...

He said, "I want to fuck your pussy so bad". When he first said it, I felt a little weird because of what I told myself about calling the asshole by any other name but. However, I was also kind of turned on. Because of that being "kind of turned on", I hoped that after I said yes, and he began thrusting into me that he say it to me again. For I wanted to see if my being kind of turned on by my asshole being called a "pussy" was a passing moment, therefore making me need to stop him. Or was it something I could get into.

I got my answer by him putting that cock that I enjoyed the holy hell out of sucking, being hard enough to put in my ass, him slipping a condom on, and thrusting away at my hole. As he thrusted away at me, while I laid on my stomach, and his crotch massaged my also bubbly ass. He asked if I liked him fucking my pussy, and I told him I did. This time, his voice calling my ass a pussy turned me on more than it did the first time.

We soon change positions. Missionary. I was more than pleased by this because I was finally going to be able to massage his bubbly butt, while he massaged my hole with his dick. So good that when he asked if I like him fucking my pussy, I mirrored his words by responding, "Yes. Keep fucking my pussy, Baby!"

Yes. I referred to my own asshole as a pussy. And I didn't care. At first, I thought it was something that happened in the heat of the moment that I would regret in the hindsight that kicks in immediately following the afterglow of sex. Well, to this day, and as I write this. No such regret has hit me. He and I both called my asshole a pussy, and each calling of it as such sparked the word-perv in me, and got me closer to getting off.

Hindsight being 20/20 may not have given me regret, but it did teach me something. It taught me that the annoyance (expressed in a article I wrote 2 1/2 years ago) with guys calling my asshole any other names besides an asshole did not pertain to someone calling it a pussy. My annoyance was more about those idiotic names like "mussy", "bussy", "man-gina", "boy-pussy" were names that were made up as an attempt to gender an asshole --- a body part that is not specific to a gender.

I said in "A Sexually Geeky's Why I Heart Sex", when one refers to a vagina as a "pussy", they are often speaking of it as a female's canal to receive and give pleasure to the sex partner. During anal sex, when done right, the asshole does the same thing. However, I see now that I stayed away from calling one's asshole a pussy out of respect for allowing women to have a name for their unique body part that is a means for sexual pleasure for them. After all, females have had enough taken away from them by cisgendered males for millenniums. Plus, we cisgendered males have a dick, which the head of is actually the equivalent of a female's clitoris. So how would most males feel if women started referring to their clit as a dick? Many males would probably feel like females are trying to claim something that is unique to a male as their own, even if that is not their intention at all.  I see a male calling his asshole a pussy the same way. Hence why if you've followed my writing long enough, you have read me referring to my means for anal pleasure by the term "ass tunnel".

So while I have no regrets about my playmate referring to my asshole as a pussy, me referring to it as such myself, or me getting pleasure from either, out of the respect for women I spoke of in the previous paragraph, I won't be making it a habit of calling my asshole a pussy. I'll enjoy it in that moment, then move on.

No Longer Mr. Handsome NYC

Back in June, I won the title of Mr. Handsome NYC.

Part of my requirements as winner is to throw a fundraiser. I was all for this. In fact, I started contacting possible sponsors like immediately after winning. However, my selection and what was promised by those possible sponsors was looked upon as bare-boned. My search for sponsors was so brief because I was unaware of how much went into doing such a fundraiser, since I had never done such a thing. Plus in this case, I was unaware that the money for the benefiting organization did not come from a portion of admission. So with my writing 3 blogs, doing appearances, and as a union brother reminded me when I posted about this matter on Facebook, 1 or 2 union bargaining sessions each month since my day job unionized, there is no time for me to take on such an undertaking.

I offered the host, Hunteur that instead of doing a fundraiser, to simply host one night of the Handsome NYC party where I could choose a theme, decent porn, and music to set the mood. I believe since I had never done a fundraiser before, hosting a party night would me a much more reasonable dip of my toe in the water or organizing an event than adding fundraising to those duties.

Well, my offer to simply host a party was denied. So I was instead asked for the return on my crown, which is fine by me.

 For being the perfectionist that I am, I saw the crash-course offered of how to make a fundraiser being against my work ethic. I need to have the time to give my all. I was given a full year of my reign to make that fundraiser happen, but with all that I am presently doing, it would have still been a rush job to do an entire fundraiser.

Furthermore, I can't work with my position in gay nightlife being misconstrued as it was. For it was believed that I was greatly involved in gay nightlife. This is a great misconception that could have been avoided by paying close attention to my writing, and what kind of notoriety and lack of notoriety it results in.

For anyone who really takes note of what I write would realize what I write about gay nightlife is from the position of being an observer. Not by any means do my writings show me to be "connected" on such a friendly level with anyone in gay nightlife to be considered "involved". If I was, then how come after all of these years of blogging about gay nightlife have I never received a Glam Award nomination? Exactly. So entertaining that misconception was an added pressure I won't allow. Nor am I under any obligation to prove or disprove it.

Looking back on this, I realize now that part of the reason for the lack of contestants which allowed me to win that contest by default might be because of another reason besides the pretentiousness in gay NYC now. I feel the lack of contestants might be because possible contestants know someone who has done fundraising already. Thereby giving the potential contestant knowledge that I didn't have. They already knew about the barrage of emailing and back and forth that must be done for a fundraiser where the money to the beneficiary does not come from the admission. Either that, or they don't have the online following to feel confident in doing as much as host a party like I had offered. So they bowed out of the idea of competing. With that said, I believe that if the responsibilities after winning are scaled down some, then contestants who sign up (then actually show up) might not be so hard to come by.

In any case, I hope the best of luck to my alternate. I'll get the crown back to Hunteur when I'm out and about at that time. As for those who showed me such support before, during, and after winning the contest, I give to you a WHOLEHEARTED THANK YOU. 💋