Bottoms Up

Sunday night was going to be my night to be the star of the show. I was going tie my shoes for the second time, reinforcing my love for my partner. He was going to be so happy. I was going to put him in a place that he has only dreamed about before, the kind of place found only in Falcon videos.

It’s only been a little more then two week since I lost my virginity. As it turned out, it was nowhere near as horrible as I thought it would be. Just the thought of having a pork loin shoved up my tiny dimpled hoo hoo made me want to grab my teddy bear and run to my mothers bedside. The mixture of Mexican Margaritas and a lot of lube helped me loosen my inhibitions while on vacation.

Looking back, in a way I feel I was victim to the catholic school girl syndrome. All the public school girls were doing it and it seemed to be all the rage. Maybe I should give it a go? Truth be told that in our relationship, I am still the one who wears the pants. My partner prefers to be the passive one and I the aggressor. Sure, I can be as nelly as the next one at times but at the end of last call, I’m the bull looking for a cow.

All day Sunday I was stressing over how to prepare myself for the big W.B. Sunday Night Super Special. I never told my partner that this was my plan. I did not wan him to be disappointed if my valium did not kick in and I decided to call it a wrap before the shooting was done. After we finished the opening scene I was relieved to feel my partner was rubbing his bubble against my groin indicating that it needed to be pricked. How was I supposed to know that he was in the other bathroom prepping at the same time as me?

At the end of the evening, after he took it with my sincerest blessing, I went to bed still feeling like the hunk off beef that I am. Sure, geist put me in my place after I fell asleep but at least I knew that I’m not you typical versatile guy. I do what I have to do to eat and that’s it.

Thinking about it all now, I do realize that it’s really the bottom, of the passive that’s the star of the show, the one wearing the pants. I’m just the director. I am even more now concerned about out latest communication glitch because of what could have happened. What if I was really ready to give him some and so was he? We both be in the bedroom rubbing our buts together trying to ignite a fire with no wood. What would happen if I really did like being the bottom? Would we be end up being a double bubble couple always fighting over the dildo? Who knows…..

I’m in L.A. on Saturday night and San Francisco on Sunday night. E-Mail me if you want to take me shopping and by me coffee. :)
I’d appreciate a good laugh with a reader.