Ya’ll should know: some days I just feel like being a wise-ass, to pretty much anybody.
Caller: Um, yeah, can you tell me what, exactly, it is that you practice?
Me: What I preach. At least I hope so.
To the caller’s credit, he laughed. Good man. We then had a brief “why don’t you go read over my website and see if I’m what you’re looking for” discussion. Because I cannot possibly explain what I do in thirty seconds or less. So he said he would, and who knows, perhaps he’ll find his way back to me someday.
Meanwhile – behold my Weapon Of Ass Destruction. Isn’t it a beauty?
It was presented to me by a man whose eyes are not, in fact, bigger than his assshole. (Even though his ass is pretty damn tight.) I’ll call him Chance. Yes, Chance can take this. All of it. Really, really hard.
It’s amazing, especially given than he’s a rather slender guy. I swear he’s missing some internal organs or something, because otherwise I don’t how he’d swallow this monster up. But he does.
It’s not like I don’t give him warm-up. Hey, I’m a good responsible top. I do this thing where I insert four fingers as far as I can into him and then rotate my hand rapidly, as if I were making the gesture for “so-so”. The effect this has on Chance is anything but lukewarm. His eyes roll back in his head and he makes the nicest moaning noises. I can only assume I’m giving his prostate gland some kind of butterfly kiss.
Then I spit on this bad boy strapped to my hips and start working it up into him. It’s a process, but once I'm all the way in, I can rock him like a hurricane.
I’ve never fisted a guy, but every time I fuck Chance, I think, “Damn, this thing is about as big around as my wrist…” So one fine day I’m going to see if a certain gay male pal, who’s an anal expert, will pay Chance and I a visit and talk us through the process. There aren’t so many things left that I’ve never done. It seems like I should explore all the depths…