RELEASE (But No Grain Waves)

So I bottomed for the first time in ages. I don't know if I've made it clear or not, but I've been the 'pitcher' rather than the 'catcher' for this blogs entirety, up until yesterday when someone broke the spell. This was achieved by a very competent someone who made me feel exquisite, had the most attentive bed manners and was otherwise a gentleman, and it was perhaps a combination of these (pleasure and safety) which drove me to offer myself in a way I'd half heartedly decided wasn't for me. How excruciatingly wrong was I!

Also, he was your typical bear, and there's something about bulkier guys that makes me want to melt submissively and satisfy every and any whim of theirs with total obeisance. 

I've been exhausted/negative on some fundamental level for some time, but now feel like someone's pushed the reset. I don't envy heterosexual males for whom sex will mostly assume the active-form of 'topping', whereas I'd forgotten that as a gay man I could essentially 'flip' a switch (flip-fucking is a colloquialism for vers or versatile, meaning good to both fuck and be fucked; that's me baby), and shift the dynamics for a totally different sexual experience. Not that sex is neatly dichotomised into acts that are either/or (passive and active, dominant and submissive etc.). 

Basically I love my ass hole again, and I'm serenely pitying my straight fellows for whom ass play is a restricted area, being beyond the comfortable parameters of masculinity as it too closely resembles homosexual practices and sensibilities. I'd forgotten how intense it can be, once the initial sting of being penetrated recedes and there's only that fullness, punctuated by the sweetest jolts to ones prostate. 

I'm definitely becoming graphic now. But seriously, it's so fucking intense and I can't believe it's been almost a year since I allowed anyone to pleasure me in that way. It feels like wasted youth and I need to get back on that saddle. 

Anyway, details. He had a serious home entertainment setup with a 'smart' television and omnipotent sound, and was a stoner but (quite unprofessionally) had no junk food set up for afterward, an observation from which I kindly declined any more than the smallest toke. He was cuddly, a signature bear trait? But they don't have to all be adorable. Just because they don't have six packs doesn't mean they  can't be total cunts. 

So we snuggled on his couch and watched horror movies, also the third season of Girls which I still hadn't gotten round to seeing as I work a lot, and then the first episode of Amerrican Horror Story's fourth season which I'll admit to having mixed feelings over. It's tone is closer to Asylum's, which makes sense because I suspect it's in the same universe (Peppa has a cameo). But ultimately it's more of the same, and for the first time I had to force interest. 

We talked and I found out this guy had just broken up with his boyfriend of seven years. Thus the cuddling. I don't mind servicing very specific wounds, especially if I get fucked like that. 

In the morning I stayed on, peppering more television with more fucking, not leaving until the afternoon at which point cravings for junk food were high (pot and movies, but where the fuck were the grain waves?). 

Also, he was a painter, but not in the high-brow sense, more the as-seen-on-the-wall-of-your-local-small-town-espresso-shop kind (those unknowing masters of kitsch), quietly filling the homes of wealthy dairy farmers everywhere with wobbly impressions of native birds. I confess to being into them, they were crazy-busy and had these glue-gun textures. He'd done a zodiac series in the style of Crowley (I'm not sure this was deliberate), and while I wouldn't pay money I seriously considered smuggling one out with me. 

There was also a Lana Del Ray portrait, just above a water cooler serving lime-flavoured H2Go. Yuck. 

In summary, my ass holding the key to a general existential refresher? The body speaks!