I have an image stuck in my head I can’t get rid of. It’s been haunting me for some days now. Every time I allow my mind to wander away from other things it’s preoccupied with, my thoughts go back there. To this image. It won’t go away, won’t leave me alone.

It’s Justin fucking this trick after he won the King of Babylon contest.

I can’t even remember this guy’s name, the guy he stole away from me and fucked against that wall. I hardly remember what he looked like. But what I remember, what comes back again and again, no matter how hard I try to fight it, is what Justin looked like, thrusting in and out of him. I can’t stop thinking about it. And I think about why I think about it. It’s a vicious circle I can’t seem to break out of.

First, I was surprised, shocked almost. I don’t know why. It’s not that I never thought about Justin as a top before – okay, so maybe I haven’t, not really. I just always assumed that he’s a complete bottom boy – just look at that ass, who wouldn’t want to fuck it? Also, we never really talked about it. Because, like I just said, I haven’t even thought about it before.

Then I was annoyed. Justin was mine, I had taught him everything he knew, everything he could do; so what gave some random trick the right to know some of Justin’s sexual behaviour better than I do? It just seemed wrong. I felt like I had to be the one to know Justin inside out, know all of his skills, his acts, his techniques.

Which, of course, led me directly to the next stage: the wondering. Justin had always been a fast and most enthusiastic learner, and I began to wonder what he would be like. Would he copy me? Would he fuck like Brian Kinney? Does something like a Brian Kinney fucking-scheme even exist? If I let Justin top me, would I fuck myself?

There, I admitted it. During the last few days, I had seriously considered the possibility of letting Justin top me.

It’s not that I was born a top, you know. Everybody has to start somewhere. But stud status is something you have to work for hard enough to get it and even harder to maintain it. In other words: it’s been a while. And that’s not only because I was afraid of losing a reputation; it’s also because I couldn’t really be bothered before. I just love to fuck, to be the one on top, that’s basically it. And I never gave it a moment’s thought about what my tricks might be like when topping.

But now there’s Justin, who just runs around with his perfectly shaped ass and his Sunshine-smile; Justin, who refused to leave from day one and who I somehow just got stuck with; Justin, who makes me break some of my most important rules with a wink and a shake of that ass; Justin, who fucks with my mind in a way I don’t want to explore any further. And all of a sudden, I glance down at him while he blows me, wonder if he’d enter me with deep or shallow thrusts; wonder what kind of pace he’d set, wonder how long he could actually stand fucking me of all people. If he could stand it at all. Knowing Justin, he might just come from the thought alone.

So I wonder and wonder and finally decide that I need to find out before I go completely insane. Just once, I promise myself, just this once because I need to know. I have a right to know.

There’s a problem, of course. Just like I never thought about Justin as a top, he probably never thought about me as a bottom. And asking him directly to top me is completely out of the question, of course. I can just too well imagine the smug grin he’d be wearing for days, if not weeks. That’s never going to happen, Sunshine.

But I wouldn’t be Brian Kinney if I wasn’t able to come up with a master plan. Or, rather, a plan I hope will work. I’ve had time enough to think about it and decided that I have to push him a bit further than I ever did before, place a bet on his curiosity and cheekiness – and see where we go from there.

So here we are now, on my bed, making out. As usual, I look down at Justin while he’s busy swallowing my cock whole. And as hot as it is, my mind’s elsewhere. What does he fuck like? The time to find out has come. If Justin’s clever enough to get the hints I plan to drop. If not – well, maybe he’s not worth it to begin with.

I fondle his hair, forcing him to stop deep throating me for a moment and look up to me. He’s slightly confused. Well, listen up now.

“Do you like to rim?” I ask, and hope for his sake that he knows what I’m referring to.

The confusion on his face disappears, and he shows a sly smile instead.

“Sure,” he says, “I love it.”

I mirror his grin with one of my own. “Great. Go to it.”

He licks his lips in anticipation and bows his head back down. I feel his mouth on me again, but it’s not caressing my dick anymore. Instead, Justin’s tongue leaves a wet trail from the root of my cock, further down, until he’s arrived at my balls. Ah. He’s carefully sucking on them. Good boy. He kisses me some more down there before he continues his exploration. Justin rimming me is a first time for us, too, and I’m curious to see how he’ll handle it.

He snorts softly and pushes my legs further apart. Seconds later, I can feel his breath hitting my perineum. It tickles a bit, but it’s okay; now I’m the one licking his lips in anticipation. Just go to it, Justin.

His tongue darts out and finally makes contact with my skin, drawing lazy circles around my hole. I feel myself tensing, because of impatience or uneasiness, I don’t know. And then he really goes to it, the tip of his tongue is trying to make its way into my body, and fuck. I tense some more and he pauses, just in the right moment.

That’s when it hits me: maybe this isn’t the first time he’s doing this? I’m… I don’t know. Not happy. Who did Justin rim before me? If he’d sunk his virgin tongue into an ass, it should’ve been mine. It’s a lesson he needs to learn.

I lift my body slightly and push back on him as much as possible. Justin wasn’t expecting this sudden movement, he inhales sharply and withdraws. And there it is again, the confused look. Jesus.

“I said: go to it,” I snap and lie back down.

As soon as my head hits the mattress, Justin’s tongue is back – and I think my point came across. He practically stabs me and doesn’t stop when I tense again. Fuckfuckfuck. That’s almost too much. But I can’t and won’t back down now, no chance. Besides, it’s getting better already, oh yes.

He’s good at it, of course. He learned from the master. He darts in and out of my ass, fucking me with his tongue, as if it’s something we do every other day. I make some kind of noise, a mix of a low moan and a deep rumble, to show him he’s on the right track. I know how hungry he his for my approval, so why not reward him. This way, he’ll just be himself, curious and cheeky, and probably try to see with how much he’ll get away with. Little does he know that the door, or rather, my ass, is wide open for him tonight.

God, he enters me deep and he’s working so… wet. He leaves his spit almost everywhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s dripping out of my ass already. What an image. I have to stop myself from starting to squirm or do something equally ridiculous.

Justin’s movements become faster, almost erratic, and he’s moaning, god, hearing him being so turned on by rimming me turns me on, too, and I make my weird noise again. I can’t help myself. Besides, Justin seems to need a bit more encouragement to work the way I want him to.

And then I think he’s made up his mind to try me. One of his hands, which are both holding onto my thighs, starts moving. His fingers wander across my cheeks, getting closer. And closer. And then his tongue leaves me – and I feel his index finger pushing against my entrance.

I know without opening my eyes what Justin’s doing now. He’s looking at me, waiting for me to back off, to scold him, to end this little show. He’s looking for some kind of warning sign from me, but it won’t come. Not tonight, Sunshine. This is your big chance, don’t fuck it up.

His finger pushes inside. And he doesn’t pause anymore, I bet he’s too scared to give me any chance of ending this sooner than he’d like it. But it’s okay anyway. It doesn’t hurt, it’s just a bit weird, but I know I’ll get used to it.

His breath hitches when he realizes I’m allowing him to finger fuck me, and I think that’s the moment when he decides to take what he can get and run with it.

Because I said I came up with the master plan, I made sure the lube and a condom is placed conveniently on the bed, and soon enough, I hear a familiar noise: Justin is opening the tube. He’s just acting without caring about the consequences now, just as I’d planned it. He’s so easy.

A second finger joins the first, it’s lubed and fits into my by now properly opened ass. He must know I’m already prepared enough. I wonder if he’s trying to stretch this whole foreplay thing because deep inside, he’s still sure I’ll back off any second. Timing is of utmost importance now.

And then the point of no return has arrived. Justin pushes his fingers inside me once more and then they’re gone. I feel a strange kind of loss, but I can’t dwell on it, I have to act, fast, before Justin freaks or I lose my face or whatever.

I lift my leg, move it over him and roll onto my stomach. I don’t open my eyes. I can’t look at him. I won’t allow myself to see the shock, surprise, maybe fear on his face that might make me reconsider. I’ve come so far, I’m almost there. I just hope he won’t say anything, for that would surely destroy the mood I’m in. Maybe forever. It’s now or never.

It’s now. I inwardly praise Justin for his courage – I don’t know if I had the stamina to fuck somebody like me at his age and experience. But Justin’s Justin: I hear him opening the wrapper, hear the noise of a condom being rolled down and finally, I feel him positioning himself above me.

When I said I never thought of Justin as a top before, I maybe fooled myself. Sure, he’s got a great ass, but his cock isn’t to be scoffed at, either. It’s not as long, but definitely as thick as mine – and it’s entering my body this very moment.

Breathe, Kinney, breathe.

Getting fucked with a tongue or fingers is one thing – having a nine inch dick screwing your ass is a whole different story.

I try to relax by thinking of something else, and my mind goes back to praising Justin once again for really going through with it. He’s doing good so far, taking it slow, giving me time to adjust. And then, it’s okay, I’m good to take more of him, and as if on cue, he picks up the pace. Hm. He’s really doing a good job, can’t argue with that.

He rocks me for some time, and eventually, I begin to get the feel for it. My memory comes back to me, I remember the joys of bottoming, for there are some, even if they can’t outdo the joys of topping in my opinion. But being fucked is good if you’ve got a good top, and my, I really taught Justin well. I’d pat myself on the shoulder if I could.

Things get even better when Justin’s self–confidence comes back with a vengeance. I said he’s rocking me? Forget it. He shifts, changes his angle and thrusts really deep all of a sudden and fuck, I have to bite on my lip to swallow the moan that was about to make its way out of my mouth. He’s hitting my prostate now, the little fuck.

I should seriously consider giving classes in sexual education.

He’s fucking me, and it’s good, and I even begin to push back on him, because, damn. And while my hips are moving, Justin uses the opportunity and sneaks one hand between my body and the mattress, reaches for my hard cock and closes his fingers around it, squeezing it. Hard. Just like he’s fucking me. Just like I fuck him, I guess.

I’m not very surprised, but a bit worried when I notice I’m about to come. Can I come before Justin? But isn’t that the way I taught him? That a good top lets the bottom come first?

I’m slightly confused for a few moments, and then, I just stop caring and allow myself to just feel this unique experience. No regrets, remember?

He jerks me fast, he fucks me hard and he sucks my neck and I’m done, I buckle a bit, raise my hips one last time and come, probably making that noise again, I’m not sure anymore. And Justin, who I thought would orgasm seconds after entering me, manages a handful of more thrusts before he climaxes, too. He’s moaning out loud, of course, for he doesn’t have an image to hold onto, and for a split second, I envy him. But then, the moment’s gone, Justin collapses on top of me, and our ragged breathing fills the room.

I give him a few minutes before I stretch my body, signalling him to roll off me. He gets the clue and dismounts my sweaty body. As soon as he’s gone, I feel a bit cold and fumble for the duvet. It’s lying next to me. I reach for it and pull it over my body, without opening my eyes. I still don’t want to look at him. Or talk to him. I just want to sleep.

The mattress shifts as Justin leaves the bed, I guess he’s using the bathroom. He’s giving me the distance I need now. After all, it’s not that bad having him around.

Justin returns a bit later, I hear him and feel the bed shifting again. He crawls under the duvet and lies down beside me.

I think things will be okay. We’ll sleep, wake up tomorrow and not talk about it. Justin’s a clever boy. Just as I’m about to doze off, he’s shifting again.

“You know,” he whispers suddenly, “if that’s what’s been eating you the past few days, all you needed to do was ask.”

I don’t answer but choose the coward’s way out instead: I pretend I’m asleep already.

That little fuck.

 

~THE END~