Monday, March 24, 2014


Were anyone to ask me, out of the blue, if I’m a selfish top, I’d be offended. Hell no, I’d reply. I’m a giving lover. I do everything I can to tailor the experience specifically for my partner. I want him to feel better than he’s felt in a long, long time. With a smile, I’d tell you I was anything but a selfish top.

It’s a fucking lie.

I’m a gentleman on the outside. True enough. But it’s often a front, a thin veneer of manners and words. I might appear to be wearing a smile, but it’s really a snarl of a carnivore exposing sharp teeth to his prey. I use the words to get my quarry right where I want him.

I might be a lot of things. But I am no gentleman.

Not tonight. Not with this hole. It doesn’t matter whose. Maybe he’s been in these pages before. Maybe not. Like I said, it doesn’t fucking matter. All I care about is that this hole is tight, and warm, and slick with the lube I’m shoving deep inside with my index and middle fingers. That’s all he is to me at this moment, in the half-darkness.

He’s thrashing around on the mattress like a netted fish on a trawler’s deck. Maybe he’s protesting how rough I am. You know what? Whatever he’s saying doesn’t fucking matter, either. I can’t hear it. Not above the pounding of my heart. My blood’s a heavy slurry being forced through my veins with every percussive beat. I can’t hear anything but the quickening of my pulse and the greedy slaverings of the beast inside the thin layer of civility. Fuck it, it chortles to me. Fuck that hole.

Maybe that hole is ready. Maybe it’s actually presenting itself, high in the air, taunting me with its moist throbbing. Inviting me to take it, even. Maybe it’s not. Doesn’t matter. I would’ve taken it anyway. Ready or not, I would’ve pressed my engorged meat against that little pucker and shoved in, waiting for the head to pop through that taut outer ring before plunging in deep. I would’ve sunk in to the hilt just like now, then sadistically forced it in a little more and made it swell, just to get the same reaction of shock, just to get that moment’s apprehension that there’s still more to come.

A gentleman doesn’t does that. A gentleman doesn’t treat his fuck like so much warm meat. He doesn’t press his lips together and furrow his brow and ignore the soft affirmations and thanks coming from the hole’s lips. He would respond to the thank-yous and the praise instead of disregarding them as noise—the mere buzz of a fly as it wings by the ears. Listening and responding to his partner—that’s what a considerate man would do.

But all I’m considering is how good the hole feels wrapped around the meat. My meat. My pleasure. How deep I can get it. How much of a grunt I can get when I shove it in again, hard. At this moment, about courtesy I don’t give a shit.

Gentleman—fuck that. This is how an animal fucks. Not even an animal. A beast. Domesticated animals actually listen when they’re chided or encouraged. Dog have the decency to look guilty when scolded. A beast roars, and takes, and uses. A beast doesn’t know what decency is. To me this quivering flesh doesn’t even belong to a person. It’s a hole. It’s a hole meant to be fucked and filled.

And I’ll be god-damned if anyone else but me does the filling tonight.

I’ve got my prey pinned down. Helpless. Submissive beneath my relentless thrusts. The dick feels good. Looks good. Feels juicy, as I shove it brutally in and out. I’ve got the chute loose and ready for my load. Those cunt lips are split open, stretched wide and pulled out. Puffy from fucking. Just as it should be. I’m wrecking that hole. Spreading it to fit my massive meat. Ruining it for smaller dicks—ruining it for fucking gentlemen. This is not a gentle fuck. It’s a ramming, a complete and utter violation. As I mash my rigid cock deeper, deeper, and deeper still, I’m only dimly aware that my fuckmeat has released a load of semen in a puddle on the mattress.

Oh, the hole has a dick? Huh. I guess it’s there, pointed down at his feet, untouched, unused, dripping semen. Don't care. My load is the only thing I'm fucking concerned about. Getting it in deep. Leaving my mark. Making sure it never, ever comes out. I shove in with a savage thrust and start squirting my juice. My sight dims from the strength of the climax. This is what it’s all about, this moment when my DNA floods his guts. The beast inside me roars. It stands and lifts its head to the heavens and beats its chest as it lets loose with a mighty blast that silences the jungle. For a moment, it is satisfied.

Then I start to come to. The tattoo of rainforest drums is only my heartbeat. The roar that echoes in my ears still is only my blood draining from my dick back to my brain. And beneath me, the hole is murmuring to himself. “Oh my god. Oh my god. I loved it.”

Of course he fucking loved it, the beast smirks, as he retreats into the shadows to hide beneath the veneer of civility again. He got it from ME.

Me. My dick. My load. The hole belongs to me now.

Yeah, tonight I’m a selfish top. And you know what? I just don’t give a fuck.


  1. I'd imagine being fucked, gathering sensation and images from my experience. Sometimes, the imagining gets so vivid and strong, that I'd feel the flutter in my stomach and my hole twitches. I'd ball my fists, bend forward and arch my back instinctively. Later I'd see a wet spot in my underwear.

    Same effect. Thank You.

  2. It's interesting that Adventures with BikeGuy touched on this same topic (is it kosher to quote from another blog in your comments?):

    "I've said it before, will say it now and no doubt will say it again: I love that line [in] the fuck where the guy on top crosses where he doesn't know (or care) who is under him. We cease to be a person and more of a destination. Maybe it even goes past being a hole.

    Yes, the hole will take the cock. Yes, the hole will take the load. But the brain snaps a bit and all it can see is the white light at the end where all they want to do is shoot.

    ...and I'm fucking ok with that."

    Of course, BikeGuy is describing it from the POV of the bottom, but as long as tops and bottoms agree, it works out for everyone!

    Paul, NYC

  3. Incorrect last sentence: you did give a fuck. A primal, powerful one. It was your hole, taken as you wanted, needed.
    Still, even as an animal, your writing puts me there, in that jungle, inside the beast. What a ride!

  4. We all want to get off in that never never place of where we need to shoot more than we need to breath. Enjoyed the read

  5. The blood pounding in my head (and throbbing in my cock) after reading this is almost making it hard for me to hear myself saying "damn I wish it was me getting that beast masters hard cock rammed in my hole"