My name is Rob, and I'm a tall fucker. 25 years old, 6'5", 230 pounds when cutting, 240 when bulking. I have short brown hair with blue eyes. Pure Texas beef, I played football at an in-state university, but not a flagship one. I still carry the build that gets guys on their knees for me. My thick 7-inch cut dick helps, too.
Like with this guy. He looked like a younger Jason Garrett, not a dead ringer or anything but copper-redhead with a solid build. 6'1" 200 pounds and nice shoulders and arms. At least that was what I was looking down as he blew me in his living room.
My previous men were hotter. A Grinder hookup that was 6-even and beefy at 220, olive-brown skinned and brown-eyed Latino muscle guy. 8-inch uncut cock that was fun to taste before we eased into a 69....
I collected these stats like trophies, mementos of the few men I've ventured to have sex with. Like my first and only boyfriend Bryan. 5'10" and 180, blond, blue eyes with super compact muscle and an amazing chest. He was masculine as fuck, with a deep voice and a backcountry Texas accent thicker than molasses. I didn't think I could cum from oral sex until one night Bryan kept going and I felt the most amazing orgasm.
I messed it up, I thought there was something better out there, and I didn't respect him in the bedroom. Turns out two men can have hangups about wanting to be top.
Garrett, whatever his real name was, didn't suck cock nearly so good as Bryan. It was minute eight of the blowjob now and the point where his initial enthusiasm turned to work turned to fatigue. That gave me performance anxiety.
So I shut my eyes and conjured the image to get me there. I didn't overplay this card, but I envisioned my big brother, who played pro ball in the NFL, for the Bengals. I had his stats memorized too:
Tim Griffin, TE, 29, 6'5", 260#.
My stud brother has brown hair longer than mine, hazel eyes, and trimmed scruff for a beard. And probably a big honking piece of dick between those tree trunk legs.
I felt my balls churn. I leaned back and felt Garrett's bobbing mouth.
Once I was drunk as shit and asked one of Tim's buddies if he thought my brother ever fooled around with men. "Shit no," Carson laughed.
I now imagined those high school cheerleaders sucking my big brother's cock, like I have so many times in my life.
"FUCK!" I grunted. I leaned my head back down and opened my eyes to watch this guy suck my cum down excitedly.
This guy advertised no-recip and that's what he was getting. "Thanks," I announced as I tucked back into my jeans and zipped up. "That was awesome."
I felt strangely nervous shuffling out of his house and back to my truck.
I was a stud and my sex drive was amped up to 10, but I didn't like hookups. Too nervous about catching something, or encountering some weirdos. And truth was, I was still hung up on Bryan.
Still, "Garrett" had been great, I thought, as I started my truck.
***
I fucking hate Dallas. I'm sure there's normal people there, but I associate the city with lots of rich assholes and fake cowboys.
But I had a work trip there, and it had been too long since I'd been laid. So I was scrolling Grindr again and was hit up by one of those fake cowboys. This dude's pic even had him in a cowboy hat and jock strap. The stats were impressive, I'll say: 32, 6'3", 215#, br/br, power bottom. Fifteen of those pounds at least were in that muscle ass. Yeah, Cowboy, I'll come over and fuck you to town and back.
He didn't have Bryan's hick voice that gave me a hardon, he was a big-city gay dude. But in person he was hotter than his pictures. He was wearing a jockstrap and nothing else and had an appealing amount of groomed body hair.
"Hey," he grinned as he let me into his place.
I did my best to saunter in. I outmanned this guy and still I was nervous. "Thanks for hitting me up, dude... I'm fucking horny." I figured cut to the chase, right?
"Yeah?" he asked as he stepped up and cupped my crotch.
He kissed me and I felt my lust rise and my dick get fully hard in his grip. Already Cowboy was unzipping me and reaching in to fish for my dick. I helped him, pulling back to pull down my shorts and let my bad boy free.
He crouched down, back arched so his ass jutted out while he sucked several inches down.
"Oh fuck," I hissed. I was now glad I had a slow trigger when it came to getting head, because Cowboy sucked like a hooker.
Deep down I craved a masculine man like Bryan. But maybe I was missing out on the power bottoms of the world.
After all, Cowboy was pulling off my cock and crawling to kneel on his sofa, facing away from me and spreading those meaty legs. The jock strap framed that muscle ass perfectly. All right, maybe Dallas wasn't so bad.
I wanted a taste. I didn't always enjoy rimming, but with an ass like that, it seemed a waste not to eat Cowboy out. So I crouched down and licked away.
That was my first education in what a power bottom was all about. Lots of bucking back against my tongue, riding my face. When I finally pulled back I saw a bottle of lube next to his calf on the sofa cushion.
I slathered up and seeing that his hole was gently used, maybe not so gently, I didn't waste time. I fucking boned him. Four inches in one go. Cowboy, bucked back against the rest.
I held onto his hips and rode that bronco. In and out, not rough, but fast and deep, savoring the sensation of his raw hole. I wouldn't need to think of my brother Tim to get me off, but I went there anyway. 260 pounds of NFL beef and a big thick brother dick fucking a teammate.
I whimpered when I came, collapsing onto Cowboy's back. He was warm and his muscle toned. "Fuck, man," I hissed.
He kind of gave mini-bucks back against my spurting cock, letting out a little laugh. "Damn, dude, you were horny."
I pulled back, slipping out slowly. My dick is big, but it loses its size and hardness quickly after a nut. "Yeah," I said.
The post-hookup weirdness was kicking in. I didn't want to be rude to Cowboy, but I needed to get out of there.
"I should go, man... you good?"
He laughed as he got up off the couch. Hardon in his jock pouch but showing no urgency to get off himself. Some bottoms were like that, I suppose.
"Yeah, I'm good. Thanks for the fuck."
I was pulling up my shorts now. "I'll let you know if I'm ever back in Dallas," I said.
He gave me an amused smile. "Sure, man."
****
I drunk texted Bryan. Saying I missed him and wondering if we could get back together.
"I don't think that's a good idea, Rob," he wrote back.
****
I didn't meet Joe online. He was a contractor working on the house next door. He'd come over to apologize for the noise on a Saturday and to tell me to let him know if he needed to move the truck that was parked in front of my house.
Those brown eyes would have kept me from any complaints. The guy was hot as fuck, older than I go for, but with a solid, blue collar build and a lot of facial scruff.
"It's all good," I said. "Thanks for checking, man." I didn't want to let the opportunity pass. "You want, like, some tea or anything? It's pretty hot out." OK, that was straight from a porn movie, but fuck it.
He laughed, probably picking up on what I was angling for. "Nah, I'm OK. But thanks."
I felt dumb, until six hours later when the doorbell rang.
"I'm Joe," he said. He thrust a piece of paper in my hand. "Call me." And like that, he walked away, back to his truck.
We met for dinner, then had sex afterwards, swapping BJs. I was surprised at how easy we clicked. Joe was born and raised in Beaumont, too, and we talked about how we'd both considered moving to a bigger city for a better pool of dudes.
It was the third date before I fucked him. It was like the perfect mix of Bryan's masculine demeanor and Dallas dude's bottomy vibe. Joe was super snug and out of practice but by the end, he was urging me to fuck harder and flagging his cock to a heavy release. I dumped mine into him seconds later. I didn't even think about it until later, but I hadn't even had to think of Tim to do so.
****
I told Joe I wasn't looking for anything serious. "You're too old for me," I said bluntly. The man was 41 to my 26.
Joe rolled his eyes. "Mr. Tact, I see."
"Sorry... you can see why I'm single."
"You're single cause you think you're better than other guys."
"Maybe I should go," I said.
"Yeah," came his blunt reply.
Only I didn't even get home. I pulled off the side and texted Joe. "Sorry for being an asshole. Can I make it up to you?"
"Bottom for me?" came the reply.
I'll admit I'd been curious, but I was stubborn. "I dunno."
"At least treat me to a nice dinner."
"Deal."
***
Joe didn't pressure me, but he brought up wanting to top me, more than once. We were having sex three times a week and working up to four. I was finding my groove with him, and even enjoying sucking him off. Maybe I could try this. I said OK.
The man took his time. Rimming, kissing, and fingering my hole. He reminded me of the men I grew up with, teachers, coaches, neighbors. He had a nice 6 inch cut tool, gently curved with a nice head. He patiently worked it inside my tight ring, and like that I was no longer cherry.
"You OK, Rob?" he asked.
My ego was bruised, but that cock felt good. Then as he gently fucked me, it felt great. I now knew why bottoms loved this. This was incredible, a slow missionary screw in his bed while the AC blasted and I felt transported to some deep emotional place. A private ritual between two men. Joe was the man who took my virginity, and I'd always remember this.
I could see his careful, determined face get more urgent in lust as his hips picked up speed. I now stroked my dick in time, feeling my prostate buzz inside my ass. I was gonna cum, big time.
I blasted hard and cried out as I did. Joe was silent in his orgasm but I knew he shot heavy inside me.
We kissed then he slid out of me, letting my legs down.
"Fuck, man!" I sighed. I was feeling crazy emotional and so alive. I was still turned on and my wet hole felt empty.
Joe laughed. "Guess I'm not too old now, am I?" he teased.
I looked at him with emotions I couldn't process. His dick was still firm and standing up. I climbed onto his lap and reached back to guide his meat back into my hole.
I looked down at the smiling, confident man as I rode him.
5'11" 202#, br/br. The last stats I'd ever need to collect.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
