When a bottom has his head on straight, and you're a good top, your dick is like a fingerprint to that bottom.
Such was the case at the ManMeat NYC sex party I attended recently.
The area was dark. I usually don't even bother trying to play in such areas of a party because the trolls make such darkness a free-for-all, thereby becoming intrusive. To the point that one might lose their cool and become violent in defending their personal space. Anyway, I walked around anyway. And then I saw it....this familiar tattoo.
His tattoo was so unique, that I couldn't help but know it was him. You see, back when I was volunteering at the sex party at 30 Lexington, I topped him. I fucked him a couple of times, mainly doggy style. So the design of that tattoo on his incredibly shapely muscular frame
in dim light was engrained in my brain.
This time however, he was playing with someone else at that moment, and as much as I wanted to touch him and refresh his memory of who I was, I took the high road most guys don't seem to take, and left him alone. And it seemed to make for good karma. For a little while later, I was walking around, and we saw each other. He was alone this time, as was I. We were both naked, and started feeling each other up. I told him a couple of times that we had met before, but he never seemed to react. Most likely because the loud music prevented him from hearing me.
We felt each other's cocks and asses. He then let my hard dick slipped in between his thighs. We were then standing there simulating sex w
ith my cock sliding back and forth between his thighs and tickling his perineum, which drove him crazy (in a good way)
. While doing this, I massaged his ass, which seemed to drive him even more crazy.
He then said to me, "Why not go for the real thing?"
I said, "Okay." So we went over to this nearby mat.
He then said, "Then let's get a condom, and some lube."
I said, "Got it." Because always prepared and not too keen on the condoms and lube given at sex parties, I had brought from home, packets of lube in one sock and condoms in the other.
He suddenly got down, and started sucking my already hard cock. As good as he was, this was not the amazing orifice on his body that I wanted my cock to fill. It's was his ass. So I eventually led him up, and started topping him doggy style.
His ass still felt amazing, just as it did when I fucked him at that other party. I fucked his hole and he fucked my dick for a good while with many coming over to watch. I'm surprised that I didn't shoot a load. Although I'm sure along with the creeps who I had been moving the hands of all night interrupting my flow, the condom also played a part. I'm not complaining because in this case, I can see that a condom would help me to last longer in an amazing ass such as his. More so than if we ever had a private 1-on-1 without the sex party audience, and unwanted creep-hands. When I stopped fucking him, he asked me if I had cum. I told him I didn't, and he was happy to hear that because he said that he wanted more later. And truth is,....so did I.
I found myself sweating like a pig afterwards. Again, that's not a complaint. For I love sweaty sex, and I find someone cringing over it to be a sign of a lesser and inhumane idea of the human male body's reaction to sex. Anyway, I told him that I needed some air, so I got out of the groping crowd, and did my post-fucking ritual of washing off after each sex party playtime. Sex in mine or my playmate's apartment is sex I like to stay sweaty and bask in.
Later on, we ran into each other again. And we immediately started feeling each other up again. He started to ask, "Did you used to go to a party----?"
With my recalling him not hearing me before about the fact that we had met before, I interrupted continuing, "----at 30 Lexington Avenue?"
He replied, "Yes!"
I told him that I mentioned to him before that we met before, and he said that he didn't hear me as I had mentioned before figuring out. He said that he knew the way I fucked him felt familiar. This meant a lot to me since in my versatility, I've said numerous times I've always felt I was a much better bottom than top.
I went to sit in the lounge for a bit after to rest some more. When I came back, He said, "Round 2?" and I happily obliged.
After this Round 2, we kissed and made out for a bit. He said that this time, he wanted to make sure that we exchanged numbers. This gave me a choice of doing it right then, or later. I decided on later because I felt that either one of us could easily lose the other's phone number on the paper we write it on since we were walking around naked, so the only place to put the number would have been our shoe - for both of us. So as much as it was a risk that we might miss each other again, I decide when one of us decided to leave, we'd simply just find the other one. Luckily, that worked out. I was standing around near the downstairs lounge area collecting myself when he came up to me, and told me that he was leaving soon.
I like when initiating a booty call is in either party's court. Instead, of the game-player's credo where they say, "Give me your number, and I'll text you", and they never text you, and with their overcompensating ego and power trip, they never gave you their number in the first place, and the other guy's naivete never asked. Another behavior pattern that justifies Karma making so many gay males wind up old and alone. Well, such behavior was not the case here. For when he told me he was leaving, we
both went over to the bar, got pens and papers, and wrote each other's name and phone number down. Now, if we ever get around to using those numbers remains to be seen. For we both have lives outside of that party that we don't know about. But at least we made the effort to make that sexual magic happen again.
Evidently to him, my style of fucking created the chemistry that I've always felt one's style of fucking (be they top or bottom) should be....like a fingerprint. Like no other in the world. A style where if blindfolded, that dick inside you, or ass and pussy wrapped around your dick is totally familiar.
This also dispels the racist theory of those wanting to know what a Black cock is like by sampling just one. Because it's been at least 2 years since I fooled around with this guy. He's was with other guys the night I met him, and he (like I) has had other partners. YET, my Black cock stands out in his mind. Ergo, disproving the idea that all you need to do is sample
just one and you're set on knowing what Black cock is like. For there are fucking styles influenced by
individual history behind each dick with Blacks just like with every other ethnicity that you run to on the regular.
So the reason this guy has a shot at another go with me is because he knows....
you don't know a dick by the color of its cover. And that's a lesson many need to learn.
