Date

I am at sixes and sevens.

Gotta date tomorrow night with a guy I've corresponded with on AOL. He had a really nothing screen name. Like, 'Man145' or something. When I opened up his profile, I expected to find that he didn't have a profile. That was not the case. Flogging, whipping, fisting, beard, cigars, cross, sling.

We talked on the phone last night.

So Friday night, I'm gonna drive down there to where he lives in northeast Philadelphia. We're gonna have a beer and smoke a cigar and smell each other. Then if we decide to play, we're gonna flip a quarter to see who tops who.

I hope I win that coin toss. I am totally in Top mode. All of a sudden.

Flog him. Whip him. Bind him. Fuck him. Beat him. Chain him. Unload my piss up his asshole. Make him bleed. Make him howl. Make him cry. Feel his tongue through my boot leather. See my arm disappear up his ass to the elbow. Feel his heartbeat inches from my fist. Give him my spit. Give him my ripe pits. Give him my sweaty balls. Have him feast on my asshole. Have him oh his knees, collared, at my feet, eyes wide with terror and awe and love. Get his face slick with my spit. Enjoy a cigar while he sucks on my pierced tits as though he was after an antidote to some deadly poison he had swallowed. Pound my cock into him, slapping my balls against his lucious butt, all the way in, and watch that rosebud quiver and pucker, then drive home again. Mark him. Black and blue and red.

Lather.
Rinse.
Repeat.

So what's up with that? What happened to, I-want-a-Dad?

Damned if I know.

Well, maybe I do know.

He is one hot fucker. Damn is he hot. And I like him. I want to connect with him. I want us to dissolve into each other. Have out two become One. That's the goal here. That's the desire.

But I don't know how to make that work from the bottom. But I sure know how to make that work from the Top.

He's the real deal. No "I'm-pretty-new-to-all-of-this-Sir-are-you-good-with-first-timers?". (Although I like that. A lot.)

Pig. Dad. Bottom. Top. All right there in one big, hairy package.

Can't wait till tomorrow night.

"Where're you going?"
"Got a date tonight, Dad."
"Who with?"
"A guy in Philadelphia."
"How'd you meet him?"
"Well... I haven't yet. First date. Checking each other out."
"You're gonna miss the game."
"I know."
"So you'll be home late?"
"If things go well I will. The dog is walked, so he should be fine."
"Alright. Drive safe. See you tomorrow."
"I will, Dad. See you tomorrow."

---