Labels

I'm an out and proud gay man but beyond that I guess I never was very much one for labels. In school and in college, I was the lacrosse jock who did theater and enjoyed going to Comic Con... whatever, I didn't like closing myself off to people or to experiences. 

I was that way with sex, too. I didn't like everything equally, but I was a horny dude in my 20s and I enjoyed trying it all. Topping, bottoming, giving head, rimming, frot, JO... not everything had to be about penetration, and I sometimes preferred meeting guys off the apps for that reason. I didn't like how sexual preference was so supposed to be a menu you order off of.

However, Steven was very much into labels. Two in particular. 

"Just so you know," he said on our second date, as we took a stroll along the harbor after dinner in the North End. "I'm a total top."

I was 28 and had been around enough to know that top/bottom didn't always fit the stereotypes. Some of the biggest baddest muscle dudes you've seen could be total bottoms, and some of the nerdy scrawny guys tops. But Steven was the stereotype of a top. 6'3" with a real fucking jacked body, he had a deep baritone voice and carried himself like, well, like a top. The man's in his mid-30s and works as a strength coach for a small private college's athletic department. Our friends had hooked us up on a blind date because of our mutual love of sports. 

While it was no surprise to hear that my date was a top, the fact he brought it up so early had me laughing nervously. "Yeah? I guess I don't label myself."

Steven seemed to take that in. "Does it bug you that I do?"

I shrugged. There was something very real about Steven, and once you got past the almost formal distance of his personality he was a real friendly guy, with a wry sense of humor. Our first date had been great and so far the second had felt like magic. "Doesn't bug me... we may just have different perspectives."

"Fair," he said with a grin. "Just wanted to throw it out there where I was coming from."

"Gotcha," I replied. We strolled a little more, and I was starting to get nervous I'd killed the romantic yet sexy mood of the evening. Or he had. It wasn't about blame, but I wanted to sleep with this hunk, bad. "My turn to throw it out there... are you one of those guys who won't fuck on the second date?" Our first date had ended with a chaste kiss, but I was hoping for more tonight.

Steven laughed and shook his head. "Hardly." And like that, he stepped up to me and kissed me. A real kiss, not a chaste one, and I felt goosebumps travel all down my body.

"God, you're cute," he said with a grin when we broke. "Back to my place?" he asked.

I nodded excitedly.

***

The sex was great. We played it safe and Steven put on a condom, but the man knew how to fuck. He had the muscle, sure, but he knew how to balance power and technique. If his being "total top" was the motivation for a job well done, I was OK with that. 

I'd had a few boyfriends before and my normal share of hookups. But before I felt either the sex took priority or the romance. With Steven, it was the right balance. We found ourselves getting serious as boyfriends before long, and everything about that felt right. We shared values and goals in life, yet were different people and personalities. 

I won't lie, there was some adjustment for me. Steven really loved fucking, particularly when we made the decision to go bareback. I preferred more variety in the bedroom. So we found a compromise. At least once a week was "Charlie's night," when I got to pick what we'd do. The only thing off limits was penetration of Steven's hole, but otherwise he was game. 

For my part, I tried to get better at bottoming, learning how to be ready for Steven's somewhat thick tool. I eventually found when I initiated things, it worked best for me and really turned Steven on. 

Three years in, the sex is even better and now that I've moved in with Steven it's even more frequent. And I even enjoy the somewhat routine feel of weeknight sex.

Like tonight. We both had a long day at work and then each hit the gym after. That meant a late dinner and after we clean the dishes, I patted Steven on his shoulder and said I'm gonna get ready. He grinned and gave me a soft kiss. 

I cleaned myself out and rinsed off and applied some lube to my hole. When I got to the living room, my hot boyfriend was there, shorts off and reading his iPad... work, reading news on the internet or watching porn, I don't know which. But the look on his face as he set aside the tablet was a big ego boost. "Fuck, you look amazing, he said," pawing at the pouch of the jock strap he'd taken to wearing lately. 

I grinned and stepped up to him, straddling him as I felt up his huge arms and strong shoulders.

"Not too tired for sex?" I teased. 

"Fuck no," he laughed running his big hands up and down my bare back and over an ass that I'd been working on steadily at the gym. My work had paid off and I had a nice round bubble butt, hard and sculpted. 

We kissed, softly at first, then harder. Weeknight sex was sometimes like that. One of us had to get in the mood after a long day, but once we did the libido inevitably kicked right in. 

"Wanna head back to the bedroom stud?" Steven asked with that deep sexy voice of his.

I shook my head. "Nah. I wanna ride you right here... we haven't dont that in a while."

My boyfriend shook his head, like an excited kid. "No. No, we haven't," he said. 

I reached down between us and pawed the erection in his jock before pulling the strap down over his erection and under his balls. It was a fuck-hard piece of dick now, ready for sex and I enjoyed feeling it up for a second before maneuvering my body over it. 

On weekends we'd take our time more and enjoy some actual foreplay, but this evening was about a quickie. "Unnff.." I hissed at the breach of my hole. I'd lubed up enough, but I was still getting in the right bottoming zone for my guy. 

Steven was patient and looked at me with ravenous eyes as he felt up my body. I was in great shape when I first met him, but having a strength coach as a boyfriend was motivation to hit the weights hard, I'll tell ya. His touch turned me on, and I felt my body relax, inside and out. I slowly slid down more of his hard prick.

"Yes.... you feel so tight and nice, Charlie," he growled softly as his fingers curled around my outer thigh. 

It went faster now, and I was practically sitting in his lap, my buns pressed against his ball sac and his cock fully buried in me. 

"Nice," I smiled.

"You like that, stud?" Steven asked, feeling extra turned on now. As a top, he loved to do the work, but this was a fun change, me riding him. 

"I do." Then I ventured the words that had been on my mind for a while but that I'd never admitted to him. "I like being your bottom, Steven."

The grunt he let out was automatically. "Fuucck...," he hissed. "I thought you didn't believe in labels," he said.

"Maybe I just needed the right man to find mine," I said, getting turned on by the admission. I started riding him, openly, moving my hips up and down to work my slick tight ass over his erection. "Needed my top to show me."

"Damnit, Charlie... you're so hot." I could tell he was doing his best not to start thrusting up in me, but he watched me intently as I worked his dick, his eyes on me voraciously. "Ride my cock, stud. Just like that... FUCK!"

I got into it. The act and the emotional side of showing off to him. Showing Steven that I was his bottom. We'd still have Charlie's Night, I'd still crave some variety. But tonight, three years into our relationship, I gave up my claim to top him or to want to top him. And that decision, combined with his hard bare cock deep inside my hole, turned me on. 

I bounced more wildly now and felt my dick leaking on his belly. I felt I could almost cum hands free and I wanted to, badly. But I knew it wasn't going to happen. 

Steven knew just what to do, somehow. Pulling me up into his strong embrace he quickly lifted me up and maneuvered us to a missionary position on the couch. And he started pounding. Not rough, but hard and steady. Over my internal spot repeatedly and wonderfully. 

I still needed my hand but barely. I wrapped my fingers around my bone and gave a couple of tugs and the semen just poured out. Fucked out by Steven's cock in a heavy stream until the stream turned to distinct jets, then a couple of aftershock dribbles. 

Steven was going of his own cum, too, with a few rigorous jabs of his spike in me before he started unloading a healthy load deep inside me. 

We kissed, passionately, not quite willing to uncouple yet. 

"Need me to pull out?" he finally asked, his weight held above me in a half-plank position. He didn't seem to be angling for another fuck, but his cock wasn't soft yet either.

"It's a little intense," I answered, "But good."

Steven nodded and looked into my eyes with a gaze that was half love and half lust. "So how long were you holding out on telling me?" he asked. 

"About being a bottom?" I asked.

"Yeah, that," he said, getting a kick at how shy I was being about it, now that I'd come.

"I dunno," I said truthfully. "I guess I've been trying to figure myself out a while, being with you... I guess you brought it out in me."

Steven listened as I continued.

"Maybe I don't like that I had this principled stance and now I'm throwing it out the window." I almost blushed as I said it, and more than taking Steven's dick my words made me feel vulnerable as hell.

Steven just nudged my chin with his thumb playfully. "We're men, Charlie. We don't like to admit we're wrong. Or even just change our mind." He gave me a grin, "I mean I have the shittiest sense of direction and still always argue with you when we drive anywhere."

I chuckled. If there was anything that led us to fight, it was taking a trip anywhere together. 

"You saying I didn't have a good sense of direction, sexually?" I asked, kind of teasing but bringing up the serious part of conversation. 

"Maybe. Or you're just more flexible than me. Whatever, I'm thrilled." By now Steven's dick was softening and it now plopped out of my ass. The coolness and wetness on my hole felt as amazing as his dick had. He now leaned up, his dong falling softly between those massive thighs. Every part of him looked amazing. "It isn't just about a word, Charlie."

"What is it then?" I was curious. I mean, the word "bottom" and using it HAD been a big deal to me. 

"It means you're not going to be dissatisfied with what I give you." His admission was simple and direct and took me by surprise.

"Of course I'm not dissatisfied. But how does calling myself a Bottom guarantee that?"

Steven shrugged. "Nothing's a guarantee. But what you said tonight... means a lot to me."

I was torn between the old Charlie and the new Charlie. But the new Charlie could see it from Steven's perspective and knew how important the labels were to him. 

I leaned up, the cum now liquified on my chest and running down it. I gave him a soft kiss. "You're the best fucking top," I said. "And I wanna be the best bottom for you."

Steven growled playfully and pulled my cum-wet body close to his, reaching down to cup my ass. Possessive, maybe, but loving. 

***

It's now 1 in the morning. We both tried to sleep but we were too keyed up emotionally from the evening. And clearly both still horny. Steven kind of scoots over to my side of the bed, wrapping his arm around my body and pressing his furry muscle against my back. I can feel his hardon against me and I wriggle my ass back against him. 

We almost never go twice in a night on a weeknight, but we're going for it now. Wordlessly, just our bodies communicating, as Steven rolls me on my stomach and climbs on top of me. He kisses my neck and shoulder and humps excitedly into my backside before he reaches down to guide his cock back into me. 

I'm relaxed from out fuck earlier and this feels right. Wonderful. Deep steady plunges but nothing too hard. Just a full body contact fuck. Even at half-gear, Steven's muscular body on top of mine feels heavy and powerful. My top. I reach down and grip the hardon between my abs and the bedsheets. I don't need to fully stroke it, I just need some stimulation and my Top will do the rest. Hitting my spot, stimulating my whole body with his weight and his muscle. It quickly gets intense in all the best way.

"Steve!" I cry, breaking the silence and using a nickname for the first time. Steven is decidedly not a Steve but it doesn't matter. I'm lightheaded as I orgasm and this time my hunk of a boyfriend isn't even a half minute behind, he's cumming simulataneously. 

And I can't remember the last time I felt so happy.