Caterwauling

It took a gay man to put it all into perspective for me, but I get it now.

It starts with the whole theory that you’re either a “top” or a “bottom” — this has less to do with physical positioning but whether you are being entered or doing the entering. In this scenario, even though I like to ride my stallions like bucking broncos sometimes, let’s just assume that, as the recipient of the stud, I’m a bottom. 🙂

Now, what does that mean for me? It means I have to open myself up, to flower at the slightest touch, to have the center of my being penetrated, both physically as well as metaphorically. I take it all in and breathe it out. And I will admit to loving being on the bottom, because of that very fact. I love the domination, the warmth, the serving as the edible centerpiece of the event.

Let’s talk about the top for a moment, in the physical sense. This person is propped up on their arms, knees, whatever, trying not to kill me beneath their weight (as if that were possible. lol). They are arching and jerking their backs in order to give themselves as fully to me as humanly possible. They are the givers, the overlords, the Santa Claus with the proverbial sack full of joy. While both parties are in charge, it’s more like 60/40 or 70/30 for this person, as they are, really, running the show. And damn it, they get tired and achy after awhile. Like BN said, they’re more concentrated on bringing the event to a close than on actually enjoying the moment as-is, because their backs hurt, damn it.

This domination mentality is what separates the sexes (even in gay relationships, not that one has to be the “man” or the “woman,” but because, let’s face it, at any given time, somebody is doing more work than the other person). When you’re the top, while you are probably enjoying the fact that you have taken the reins and that your partner is (hopefully) writhing in pleasure because of you, well, you rule. But when you say your turn ends (or when your turn, uh, *cums* to an end, well, you can very well end everything right there, at least until ya get your juices flowing again), well, that’s it. And many people might have that synapse in sense at that moment, not realizing that just because the ride needs a quarter, well, sometimes you’ve got to put in another 50 cents for your partner, ’cause you’re just nice like that.

And for the bottom, well, you’re kinda dependent on your partner springing for another quarter or half-dollar. It’s just courtesy on their part, but you have the right to expect it as well. And if the horsey doesn’t want to go ’round the merry-go-round again, that’s fine, but at least give your bottom friend a consolation prize. Otherwise, you shouldn’t have entered the amusement park in the first place.

On that final note, I just want to say that I love John Mayer’s song, “Your Body is a Wonderland.” But some days, I would liken mine more to a funhouse. Or at least, a roller coaster capital. hee hee.

Forgot to record this one, from IKEA Boy’s birthday last weekend.

I had ordered a cake from a place that, surprise, hires illiterate foreigners (no! Not in D.C.! :smile:) After fighting with this person for a half hour about the fact that I wanted white cake batter and icing done in pastel colors (only to be asked what pastel means, and after I explained it, the dumb shit said, “Oh, off white!!!” Argh). Whatever.

So when I went with Shan to pick up the cake, it was all of two inches tall, decorated in shades of chocolate (it was kinda pretty, although NOT what I had in mind), and I was debating about getting some birthday candles that were shaped like men, wearing blue and red Speedos. That’s when the gal behind the counter said, “Twenty-five dolla.”

I almost fell on the floor. “Huh?!?! You did not just say $25, did you?” I thought it was a joke — given the size of the cake, I would’ve thought it was eight bucks, tops.

She said yes. So I said, “For $25, that cake had better fucking eat me!!!”

I told the party gang that they’d better act like it was the best thing they’d ever put in their mouths (imagine the irony of saying that to four gay men. lol). But it was a really good cake. hee hee.