The Columnist

My, my, isn’t it a shame when the high and mighty stumble from their high perch in the clouds to wallow in the filth like the rest of us? A damn shame, I know. It can’t be said the poor boy wasn’t warned because he was—thoroughly! I warned him plenty. I did—I tried. I went out of my way to advise the young chap several times after the fact. Of course, he got too big for his britches too fast not to give a damn about those that genuinely had his back. Back when his ego was large enough to fill the inside of an empty warehouse.

He was a very beautiful boy, very beautiful. He was the color of wet sand with broad strokes of black ink over his piercing light brown eyes that made him look all sorts of wonderful and divine. His frame was enviously thin and tone. Not so twink, not so man. Plus, he was a gorgeous cross between naïve and dumb, which only added to his charm.

It was almost absurd he got his start sucking off dirty old men with blue-pill sex drives in the retirement high-rise. He was being passed around from one floor to another before the security guard throwing him out saw he had great potential for modeling. He thought one thing and his part-time agent thought another putting him in front of a handheld camera to play with himself. He had an enormous dick. Long, but not aesthetically thick. The kind of dick that when he sat down it pointed in a curved arch elsewhere at the ceiling. His tell was that he was only used to getting fuck came when he bent down to touch his toes. He had a nice, sculpted ass. In between the inner crack it showed a well-worn well-used stink hole that seen more than its fair share of dicks and dildos. Since then, they only showed it from peculiar angles. That way it still could be admired without letting the cat totally out of the bag.

They told him he was cute. That he had a subdued beauty that could carry him far in this wretched world, which was true. Say something, an editor and a publisher of a skin magazine suggested. The fat man was sleeping with him and liked the prestige of fucking a porn star. He gave him space in his popular magazine to give advice. With his face and my ability to turn his partial thoughts into eloquent prose, we were magic together for nearly a decade.

His career came to a screeching halt when he tarnished his ultimate “top” persona by bottoming for the first time on camera for a silver-haired daddy. I told him not to do it. I swore up and down it was going to be the end of him. Sex on film was pure fantasy. Keep it that way. The sad part was it wasn’t even the bottoming or being a young black man bottoming for an old white man that bothered people as much as how much he bottomed that really ended his career. When a man is truly one thing and gains notoriety in the world for something entirely different it becomes a major blow to his reputation, especially when thirteen inches of thick white cock disappears into an asshole without so much as a flinch. More appalling was he seemed mildly disappointed it had the nerve to end right there. He was not good at bottoming. He was great, bringing his many years of hidden expertise to the forefront.

He lost his contract with one reputable company to work for one whose scandal superseded his former notoriety. We were fortunate to hold on to the column for a few years more. The publisher got gastric bypass surgery and along with his weight his use for the “star” dwindled to.

He left the game most noted for being a porn star with his own column.

I was circling the block around Home Depot looking for the day laborer I used a few weeks earlier to install some new tile in my kitchen when I saw him at the bus stop weighed down with a ton of grocery bags.

It had been a really long time since I seen him last. He appeared older and more mature with his glasses setting off his rounder face and thicker meatier frame. I thought it was best to ride by and leave him well enough alone. He looked so sad though that I knew it would weigh on my conscious later. So, I pulled up in front of him, and shouted, “Do you need a ride?”

He was flushed with embarrassment.

He was the porn star who once drove the proud luxury car toting my broke ass around. He used to use his car to cajole me into the lucrative sex industry. He shared his dreams with me of becoming a stripper and touring clubs with us “doing lunch” at some overpriced restaurant when our schedules permitted.

He shook his head.

“I can take you directly home,” I said.

“I don’t live there anymore,” he said annoyed.

“Wherever is cool, remember,” I said, gently reminding him of all the times he went out of his way to take me wherever. I sealed the deal by popping the trunk open.

He placed the bags in the trunk, and I let him lead me to where he was going. He wasn’t shy in telling me that he had fallen on hard times after the column ended. He sold what he could and made do with the rest. He thought he would beat the grapevine to the punch by disclosing he had a brief stint as an escort that didn’t pan out too well. He was still good looking as ever but after the debacle there weren’t that many men paying a certified top “rumored” to be a seasoned bottom.

I could have gotten away with dropping him off at his apartment, but I invited myself in by using the lame excuse of needing to use his bathroom.

I had some of his bags as we made our way through the fob-swipe secured building to the elevator. The upstairs was a huge let down from the upper floors with its long, depressing barely lit, white-walled hallway. A far cry from the one-bedroom luxury apartment he used to rent with the spectacular view. I put his stuff down and hurried unnecessarily into the bathroom where I scored a condom from his medicine cabinet.

When I came out, I saw just as much of his apartment as I did when I went in. It was literally a hole in the wall with nothing more than a desk with a computer and a low-sitting air mattress facing a television, perhaps the most expensive thing he owned.

“Well, this is it! This is home.”

“It’s nice,” I said with manners.

“As you can see it’s just me. I never thought to get any more chairs. It’s not like I have a friend who comes by and visit often.” He said sadly.

I wanted to say something contrary to the fact. He didn’t have some friends somewhere? Alas, even at his best, he was way too arrogant to keep lasting friendships. He was in the business of using others before they could use him. The only reason we faired so well for so long because our time together was frequent but brief in between, sometimes boldly sharpening his cocksucker skills by sucking me off while I typed his column.

“The desk is fine.” I said sitting down and waking up his computer to find a moving background of him in a do-rag getting sucked off by a skinny dude with a big dude blowing his back out.

“Bulb and Blaise,” he said, “from my last film with that other company.”

“You look good.” I said with my dick sprung.

“Thanks,” he smiled.

“So, what’re you doing nowadays?”

“Working and going to school,” he said.

“Working where?”

“The only thing I’m qualified to do—other than the obvious,” he tried joking. “I’m a telemarketer for this place uptown. I work on commission and do pretty good. It’ll tie me over until I graduate.”

“Cool.”

We sat there in silence as he stretched out on the air mattress and watched television, and I checked my email on the computer. He wasn’t asking me to stay, but by the way he was acting, he really didn’t want me to leave either.

“So other than work and school is there anything else on the plate?” I asked, with my back towards him slowly fumbling my zipper down.

“Nope,” he exhaled. “It’s just those two things. You got a piece out there in the world?”

“Not anymore man. I broke up with my last one about a couple of weeks ago.”

“How long did the two of you date?”

“We didn’t date. He was a bootycall I kept around for about three years. I had to let him go because he got a boyfriend.”

“He wasn’t giving it up anymore?”

“Yep,” I complained. “I was good enough to suck off, but he couldn’t risk me greasing up that hole of his to fuck. His boy was ‘perceptive.’”

He laughed. “You mean he wasn’t going to tell once he kissed him in the mouth?”

“See, you understand where I’m coming from?” I laughed, turning my back to him, lying on his back rubbing his exposed flat stomach. “He let me skeet in his mouth and on his face. Even with the best washcloth in the world I can still smell it just a tiny bit of anytime I go take a piss. I know even with the best combination of a toothbrush and toothpaste you can’t tell me your man can’t smell me on you.”

“Shit, you’re right,” he said, feeling his eyes burn the back of my head. “I bet you smelled that smell when you took that piss a minute ago.

I smiled. He was still easy. I tried to hide my greedy smile as I turned and looked back. “Why? You smell what the Talent is cooking?”

“Mmmhmm,” he nodded, obvious with dick frying on his brain.

“You humming over there like you want to do something.”

“You’re damn right. You see me lying over here. You know how we used to get down.”

I felt the cheesiness of my smile creeping up on me so I said as best I could without laughing, “You said you needed me to fuck you so you could get your dick hard for film. If I got some of ass right now, I’ll be purely going for mine.”

“Don’t you always?”

“Never that,” I said leaning back, closing out the window on the computer. I spun in his chair with my dick towering out of my lap. “I’ve always been gentlemanly with this thing!”

“Yeah,” he said with his mouthwatering from across the room. “But you got yours, too. I’m amazed with all the seeds you buried deep in me I don’t have a litter to support.”

“Bring your ass over her so we can at least try again.” I joked.

“Why? We’re going to end up back over here.” He sat up on the air mattress.

“Don’t you know half the fun is going from over here to over there?” I reasoned.

He saw if he wanted anything to do with my meat he would have to come get it. Ass was too damn plentiful around these parts for me to do anything extra. And in the building where he lived was known as Ho Central around town. All I had to do was step out the door with my dick out and I would have a couple of pieces of ass before I made it to the elevator.

Maybe it was because we were older and more experienced with life that something like crawling on his knees over into my lap looked more comical than it did sexy. But I forgot to laugh when he swallowed my dick and started to suck. His mouth was divine. He wasn’t like most men, putting his mouth and trying to run an arms race. He was in it purely for his own satisfaction, enjoying the scent of my pubes and the salty taste of my dick and whatever he could do to get to my nutt sac.

“You know I didn’t come up here for some head.” I announced amazed he was doing such a good job with both of our clothes still on.

He popped my dick out of his mouth, and said, “Just formality. C’mon.”

He was pulling off his clothes left and right, tossing it on both sides of a small trail to his air mattress as he assumed his position, ass up face down.

“The lube is right there to your right.” He said.

I saw the huge bottle of clear lube with a dispenser. The thing that caught my eye was his ass. It was bigger, fleshier than I remembered but a welcoming surprise, nevertheless. It was a full and firm. The kind of booty I think is becoming of a skilled bottom built to handle big dicks.

I took off my shirt and let my jeans and boxers drop down to my ankles. I knew I wasn’t going to exert myself by doing any fancy shit. I was just going to get it in, break him off, and get it out. I dropped down to my knees. I squirted some lube in my hand and rubbed it on my dick to check out its lasting power. I squirted some more and rubbed it inside of his clamped tight hole, coarsely reminding him with my sizeable fingers a fraction of the depth I could go while reminding his tender prostate why it was so well worth it.

I gripped him by his hips and started stroking my dick in his crack. He had the good kind of lube, I thought, listening to him beg me to put it in him. Even his hunger for dick had become more ravenous, like bodily harm would come to me if I didn’t do as he said. He must have forgotten who he was talking to. He was still a beautiful boy, and he was still naïve and dumb, and I was more than happy to remind him since it was obvious he forgot.

I slipped on the condom.

I went into full “married man” mode and shoved my entire dick up in his ass in one violent unforgiving thrust to the hilt. He yelped so loudly I think the entire floor heard him loud and clear. I was pretty sure somebody was standing at the door to see who was coming to come out of what apartment with a sadistic smile.

“That’s what happens when you run your mouth!” I said holding him tight against my groin.

“Damn! Take it out!” He tapped his mattress.

“Oh, come on now. You can’t tell me this ass can’t remember whose dick this is?”

He tried wiggling his way off my dick, closing his legs with the hope of pushing me out.

“Breathe bitch,” I said slapping him on his derriere. “Take those good deep breaths and relax.”

I let him catch his breath, grunting and groaning aftershocks as the fight in his clamping hole gave way to my big dick. I pulled it all the way out and rammed it all the way back in, egging another grunt out of his mouth to talk some more shit. And I did it all again to drive the point home.

He used to love it rough. He said there was something about going from pain to pleasure to emptiness made it worthwhile. I remember that distinctly because it was a huge turning point for me. He clowned me many years back saying my tender lovemaking was superb, but my offhand fucking was something that needed some work. It was a huge for a then-nerd like me to hear from a then-porn stud like him.

Now the tables are turned, motherfucker! Taking credit for my shit!

I started right off the bat fucking him in the rough fashion he loved, pulling all the way out just so he could savor the brutal reentry with a side of shouts and squeals I was sure was going to get us a visit from the security officer downstairs.

“Damn, boy! That’s what I’m talking about!” He blubbered.

He was hot for it now, turned on like a furnace. He was going buck wild up there in the front. His high exclamations morphed in very sexy groans laced with some heavy groveling. His butthole was aching and twitching and trembling on my dick like some kind of relieving fart. He was throwing it back left and right, not making up this mind if he wanted to push me out of his wilted hole or draw me back further in.

“You enjoying that shit, aincha?” I mouthed.

He was working the hell out of his dick by then, hollering up something as if he was close to coming. He responded to my question by letting out a deep sigh that sounded as if he was coming but he wasn’t.

“I’m about to wrap this shit up.” I barked.

I slowed up enough to bump against his prostate so he could remember who was fucking him. I threw out the Mr. Nice Guy routine almost as soon as I started, quickly reminded that bottom boys like him don’t remember names or dicks. Their holes are too damn hungry for just about anything. I could have had a baseball bat attached to my groin, and it still wouldn’t matter. I slammed in and out of him as if his hole was nothing more than a slip ‘n’ slide. I grunted and let go, shooting my nutt deep in his ass.

“I filled your ass up like a cream-stuffed pastry.” I said yanking my dick out of his poop shoot, yanking off the condom, and slapping him on his ample behind.

The plan was to snatch up my pants and go. His hole took so much out of me I collapsed next to him on the air mattress, as he stroked out his own nutt with his hand.

“This air mattress holds its own.” I said putting my hands behind my head fighting sleep.

“Yeah,” he groaned stumbling to get off his knees. He walked over to the counter separating his kitchen from his living room, and I grabbed something. He came back over to me with a camera phone and took a picture of my dick with a good amount of post-nutt leakage oozing down my thigh.

About a week and a half later, my business partner shot me an email with a link. It led to this blog featuring this insatiable but hilarious bottom that sometimes breaks from the humdrum by making a go of it as a clumsy big dick top. I was just about to bust my gut after reading the third entry when I decided to click on this interesting, titled blog he was following. The writing was great, but the story was given its accompanying clips and pics. I got down to the eleventh or twelfth entry, and I saw a picture of my dick looking limp with nutt juice crying over my thigh.

I had to do a double take to make sure that was me. Then, knowing the slut I had sex with recently I knew it was me. Instead of getting mad, I scrolled to the end of the blog entry that featured my picture and posted a comment.

“I forgot to tell you the other day. I own a porn studio. It’s a small fry operation. It doesn’t pay much. But if you want to earn some extra pocket money while you’re in school making ends meet, we can always use some Grade A ass!”