Memoirs of a Total Top

I can spot them immediately now: the guys who think of themselves as Total Tops.

A lot of them call themselves "curious." Or even "straight." Those arrogant assholes who expect you to service their needs while giving nothing in return. As if the whole world existed merely to suck the cream out of their nuts.

Well, I should talk. Before the Transformation, I was like that. And that was the vibe the kid picked up on--what else could you call him?--who stopped to help me outside the bar where I was trying to decide whether to walk or flag down a cab. I was too drunk to walk straight, so the idea of a cab appealed to me, but I wasn't sure I had enough cash left. Cab? Walk? The option of vomiting was also becoming a strong possibility.

I stumbled, and the kid grabbed me.

"Hey, Mister, you look like you need help."

"The fuck you say." Oh God.

"I got a place around the corner, Mister. You can come rest there until you feel better."

I looked at him and could tell he wanted to get his lips around my cock. Kids like to do that. What the hell? Gives them pleasure.

Yeah, what the hell. He put his arm around me, steadied me. I think there was an elevator.

Then I don't remember much. Vague, strange dream. Sitting on a toilet, barfing into a bucket over and over and over. Someone telling me to lean forward, a tube up my butt, flushing me out as I sat on toilet. Probably part of the dream. My whole GI system was in revolt, that's all I remember.

Then I went asleep. I woke up naked, in a bed. The kid was sitting on edge in his T-shirt and jeans, looking at me, smiling.

"You want to fuck me?" he said.

I laughed. "You want to get fucked?"

I realized then that I felt OK, no hangover, no headache, no thirst like you're in the Sahara. Fucking even sounded like fun.

I remembered reading about how in Las Vegas they have these trucks where they will give you IVs to prevent hangovers.

And I wondered . . .

"Sure, I'd like to fuck you, kid. You've earned it."

The smile he gave me then made me feel a little strange.

But he stripped down and told me to lie on my back.

He wasn't really handsome, but he was a pleasant looking kid in a wholesome American way. Powerful, wiry body.

He straddled me and when he leaned over I was shocked by the size of his sac--massive and hairy. The hair continued over his taint up into his crack.

The smell of his crack was clean but still overwhelming exciting--intensely musky, male . . . and something else . . . I couldn't identify it.

Suddenly my cock was throbbing, aching. He scooted back, combing his crack hairs apart so I could see the muscle of his fuck ring.

Then his hole began to open like a flower. You've seen it in fisting films, the red glistening rectum as the ring pushes out.

And then it slid over my cockhead, sucking me in. I felt the soft hot gut walls massaging my shaft.

And I blew immediately and hard. But the kid had hardly started. He slid up and down, and I felt small silken threads begin to form on the walls of his rectum and begin to weave themselves around my shaft, then actually begin to work their way into my piss slit, down into my internal tubes and organs--my bladder and testicles. It didn't hurt at all. In fact I was in indescribable ecstasy. I began cumming over and over, spewing massive ropes of jizz into the kid's guts over and over as the his rectal threads stimulated every cell of my jizz-generating system. I went into and out of consciousness. I don't know where I found the energy to continue.

Now the kid turned around and continued to ride me, facing me. But now I could see this his cock had turned into a massive, veined slab of flesh as big as my arm.

He said, "You are a Total Top, aren't you?"

I said, "You got that fucking right kid. My hole is one-way only."

He laughed. "The fuck you say."

---to be continued---