It’s a Top World and Bottoms Just Live in It


I’m on vacation and yesterday “Van” and I went to lunch with friends on Baltimore’ Federal Hill.

During the meal I mentioned the story I had heard of a bottom who went to a sex party in the city, got some outrageously good dick from a handsome top, and clung to him half the night.

When the top decided to fuck another bottom the first bottom got angry and wanted to fight the new guy. The fracas broke up the party, which was in a hotel room, and I think hosts had to ask the dick-struck bottom to leave.

One of our buddies “Conrad,” who is a strict bottom, said he could relate. It seems for many bottoms getting good dick is hard to find and when you find it they want to hold on to it, he said.

Complicating matters is that there is a double standard in the gay world that mirrors a similar one in the heterosexual one.

A top can fuck as many men as he wants but bottoms who snag alot of dick get a reputation for being loose hoes and used up, Conrad said.

And forget about trying to forge a relationship,  which is already difficult in the gay world.

Conrad told the story of a handsome guy he hooked up with who had an 11- or 12-inch dick.

The sex was good and Conrad later texted the guy saying he just wanted to hang out. He really liked the guy’s personality.

He got a chilly response. “I only hang out weekends at the bars or clubs,” the top said.

Conrad later learned the guy gets so many hits from bottoms craving his big dick he just hits and leaves them and has no interest in developing anything deeper.

For this top the world is his oyster. Bottoms can’t even get a fish stick.

“Well I’m verse. Why don’t you try doing that more to get more play,” Van suggested.

Conrad just looked at  Van funny. “I’m a total bottom. I like what I like.”

Coming out to Anitra


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If I was a female I would be my buddy “Anitra.”

We are both Geminis and free spirits who can talk nonstop about the latest trends, new events and politics.

A divorced mother of a teenager she is the only woman I know who goes online to meet and hook up with men. Her ex husband was Nigerian and treated her wrong so now she deals with white men exclusively, and believe me she pulls them.

She is an ample black Venus, with wide hips, bountiful cleavage, dimples and delicious-looking lips that always seemed to be smiling mischievously.

I have known Anitra for almost 20 years – we used to work together and I still do freelance gigs for her. She knew me way back when I was married. In fact I have to admit I confided in her alot and felt closer to her than my ex-wife.

But in all this time, despite the fact we talk and text every week I have never told her I am now into men.

Last Saturday she visited out of the blue to see some renovation work I am doing on the house. “Van” lives with me now so he opened the door because I was taking a nap.

I have hung out with Anitra and Van before but always just introduced him as my friend. We would have fun and she never questioned our relationship further.

On Saturday we stood in the kitchen gabbing. Then we finished a bottle of white wine I had in the fridge.

Van went away to another room but I invited him to join us and we busted open a bottle of red wine and polished that off.

“Shit it’s the holidays let’s have fun,” I said.

Anitra loves weed and buys it from a guy I know in Baltimore named “Izzy,” who is also gay but hood as shit. She had texted him and he dropped by to sell her a bag.

“Shit let’s light up,” I said. “Izzy can I buy a joint from you?”

Izzy ran back to his car and got a joint. And we all smoked and drank wine and GOT. FUCKED. UP. I swear I was so high the world looked slanted.

Then we got the munchies and attacked my snack food.

Eventually Anitra had to leave. She was getting her hair braided the next day and had to take out the old braids, a time-consuming task that would be more difficult now that she was high.

We walked to the front door.

“Say goodbye to your friend for me,” Anitra said.

Maybe it was the wine or the weed. My head was swimming so I blurted out without thinking, “You will see a lot of him.”

Anitra looked me deep in the eyes with a look as mischievous as her grin.

“Are y’all lovers?”

Pause.

“Yes.”

“I thought so. Van is so cute. I tried to flirt with him myself.”

Anitra and I talk about everything from prose and poetry to the proper way to eat pussy.

But I was afraid to confess my sexuality to her because I knew she attended a conservative Baptist congregation where gayness was considered a sin.

I didn’t want to to lose one of my best friends, not to mention a source of additional income from freelance work. So I had been a coward, staying silent about my love life while she prattled on about hers.

Now I realized I worried over nothing.

She pulled me close and gave me a big hug.

“I don’t care what you are. I love you. Live your life boy.”

“Besides I have thought you were gay for seven years now.”

Wow, that was around the time I separated from my wife.

Later I talked to Van who had overheard parts of the conversation.

“See,” he said. “People who think they are down-low and fooling people about not being gay really aren’t fooling anybody.”

I have to admit he is right.

The Size Queen


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An acquaintance named “Christian” called me last week. A hot, little airline attendant from Barbados who doesn’t freak often but when he does throws ass better than quarterback Carson Palmer throws footballs for the Arizona Cardinals.

“Immanuel, I have  friend I want you to fuck,” Christian said. “And I want you to fuck him good.”

“That’s cool. Just give him my number,” I said.

So “Hector” started texting me and then called. Like Christian he is from a Caribbean nation and had a lilting accent. He sent a few photos to my cellphone. They were nice. He is a handsome, brown-skinned, muscular bottom.

Hector made it quite clear he was looking for a big dick to turn him out. I had that covered but I explained I have a partner and if it we were going to hook up it would be a threesome.

I sent Hector some photos of “Van” and he approved.

“Wow, he is handsome,” Hector said. “But how big is he?”

“Oh, he has a good-sized, long dick but not as thick as mine.”

Then Hector went on this text message tirade about how he only fucked dicks 8.5 inches and above and thick and anything less than that was not going up his ass.

That was rude as hell. He was the one on the prowl for sex, not us. He was going to hit me up, bring his ass over to my and Van’s house, mess up our sheets, and tell us how the sex was going to go down, and insult my partner to boot?

Awww, hell no.

“Look, thanks for hitting me up but I don’t think this is going to work out. Take care.”

“Cool,” he responded. I think he texted a few more times, trying to explain he lived by strict dick size limits, but I just ignored them and didn’t answer.

I texted Christian back an explained to him how funky his friend had acted. 

“Not feeling your friend man. Not into size queens and he seems arrogant,” I texted.

“OK, I hear you but he doesn’t think he is a size queen,” Christian answered.

A few minutes later he texted again. “I am sorry but you and Van can fuck me anytime because anyone who wants a big cock is because their hole is big,” 

That made me laugh.