Revenge of Rage Against the Bossy Bottom
Bottoms can be so demanding. Look, I get it. Ultimately it’s the bottom that’s in control. They can close up their pussy and all the fun ends. But unlike women, men have an uncontrollable urge to fuck and get fucked. And it seems to me that bottoms need to just give up that control and let the fuck happen. It’s their job just to open their ass.
As I wrote last week , bottoms can be demanding even before you show up.
Here’s more demands and shit that pisses me off.
Draw Me a Map
I live and work in the Atlanta area and, just like any set of suburbs, it’s dotted with cities and communities — Marietta, Roswell, East Point, Stone Mountain, Gainesville, Buckhead, Stockbridge and a few thousand others. Fuck if I know where they all are.
This happens so fucking often, it drives me nuts. I’ll tell some stupid bottom where I am. His response will inevitably be, “I’m in Roswell. How far away from you is that?”
The little fucktard isn’t staying in a hotel. He lives here. I’m not Google Maps. Check it yourself.
When I travel, even I have another window open with Google Maps. I’d often travel to the San Francisco Bay area. I made sure I knew where I was stay (East Bay area) and if someone said they were in Emeryville or Castro Valley or Redwood City, I’d map that from where I was to see an approximate time.
It’s not fucking difficult.
Scavenger Hunt for Ass
I’ve written about this shit before, but I’m going to put this shit out there again. Give me your fucking address complete with apartment number. Don’t give me a landmark at which to meet you. Don’t tell me to drive somewhere then text you when I’m there for the next set of directions.
I’m not on a scavenger hunt for a fuck. We’re not spies. Don’t be afraid I’m going to expose your ass to the whole world. I could give a shit about whether your mother knows you love getting mancum up your ass. I just want to fuck.
Now you play games with me, that does piss me off and, well, then I might see about scaring you by posting you and your rather bad tattoo on Craigslist for the world to see that says, “I love man dick and my cunt craves cum.”
I don’t even bother with fucks that won’t give me a full address.
You Can Find My Photos…
Send me your phucking photos. I’m not going to A4A or Manhunt or wherever you say your photos are located. Just send them to me. Don’t make me go search for me. Don’t give me the send to receive shit.
The funniest S2R ones are the young ones. I think because they’re 21 or 28 that a 45 year old will jump at the chance to fuck with them that I’ll send mine then they won’t have to reply with theirs.
I’m not that desperate.
When I have a dry spell, it’s usually because I’m being a little picky and I want some strange. I mean, there’s always my go-to asses I can fuck. But I want something new.
And don’t give me the fucking excuse you don’t know how to attach photos or a virus corrupted your drive or you’re on your work computer. Doesn’t work. (If you were on your work computer, dumb ass, you can’t be sending me nasty e-mails about how much you want my cock in your ass; that’s a lot worse than sending me a clothed pic. I know. I’ve worked at places that monitors IP packets and we look for words like “cock” as much as e-mail attachments of naughty photos.)
I Only Get Fucked at My Convenience
At times, a bottom needs to host and I’ll be hosting. But a bottom who only gets fucked at his convenience at his place? Fuck no.
There’s been this very hot piece of ass on BarebackRT.com I’ve wanted to fuck and breed for sometime. He pops up on occasion inviting me over to his place. Always his place. It’s not like his place is downtown. It’s outside the Perimeter (that’s what we call the by-pass interstate that surrounds Atlanta) just like where I live. This little cunt has a car. He just won’t put his bubble butt into it and come see me.
Oh well, he’ll never get my load.
I don’t mind bottoms hitting me up when they’re horny. That would be great. I’ve got a few bottoms I know who actually do a good job of attempting to always be prepared.
Don’t Stop Me Mid-Fuck for a Hit of Poppers
I love poppers. But unless I’m on for a long-term session, I only take one hit of poppers. It’s just before I cum. Everyone who reads me knows this and everyone who’s ever been fucked be me figures this out.
First, in the sequence of who gets hits when, the top always gets the last hit. Bottoms go first then tops go last.
I’m with a bottom the other day. He takes a hit and hands me the bottle. I do my hit. Then the little fucker takes the bottle back and snorts another one. Meantime, I’m here with my cock in the wind as that warm rush hits me waiting on him to get his ass wrapped around it.
Another bottom I’ve given a hit to, taken mine and I’m riding his ass to breed him. I’m doing my usual, “Do you want my load?”
“Wait!” he exclaims, like something horribly wrong has happened. Like his wife has suddenly come home or something. His body tenses up. Since he’s about six inches shorter than me and a hundred pounds lighter, he moves under me in a way where I’ve only got my cockhead in his ass.
Again, I’m thinking something is wrong.
“Where’s the poppers?”
“What?” I say.
“I want another hit of poppers.”
“WHAT?” I say.
“Where’d the bottle go?”
I handed him the bottle and let him take a hit. I stop fucking him, politely, like I’m some sort of machine.
“You ready?” I ask as he’s put the bottle cap back on.
I go back to fucking his ass.
What he doesn’t know is that final crescendo of popper high crashed against the rocks of me not cumming. I fuck him in a couple of more positions. Then I pull out, walk across the room and begin putting my clothes on.
“What’s up man?” he asks.
“I gotta get back to work,” I say, since it was my lunch break.
“You’re not going to cum?”
“No,” I say. “It’s not going to happen.”
I leave him, practically in tears. I could have held him down and fucked the shit out of him. Then I would have shot a load in his ass. A big one. He would have loved that. But it was much more painful for me to walk away from him without leaving a load in his ass like the last four times I fucked him. He loved my huge loads.
I’ve received a dozen texts from him asking what went wrong, if I’m angry at him.
Bottoms are such clueless bitches.
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