I was always a follower not a leader, preferring to be told what to do by those more assertive than I. In school I'd been a well-behaved boy who never disobeyed the teachers and at work I was always happiest when being given direction; I yearned for approval, especially from older men.
After losing my virginity with a bang as soon as I got to college in 1970, I spent many nights during the rest of my university career looking for and eagerly submitting to a series of dominating older men who liked to tie up, beat and fuck submissive bottom boys like me.
I was more than happy with the sexual component of my life, but since other things weren't going so well, I decided to take up a job offer and emigrate to Canada, landing up in Toronto in the summer of 1973.
Being twenty-three and living on my own in a new country and new city was both challenging and exciting; a new city, a new home, a new job, new friends, new ways of speaking, new sports to follow; a whole new lifestyle. After I'd settled down, I looked around to see where I'd fit into the Toronto gay scene.
In those days I was as skinny as male models look now, with my 160 pounds stretched thinly over the six feet of my wide-shouldered body. I had a firm, meaty bum, bright blue eyes, a Freddie Mercury moustache and dark brown hair, which I kept short even in those long-haired days.
I didn't like my big sticking-out ears, my pale white skin or the almost total lack of hair on my skinny body; nothing on my chest and just a wispy trail leading down from the navel to the growth around my groin. I felt OK about my big balls and my dick though; it was uncut, a rarity in circumcision-crazy post-war North America; the guys who thought a foreskin was weird and disgusting were balanced by the ones who wanted to play with something new!
From what I could see at the baths or in bed, I had few reasons to feel ashamed of its length; it certainly wasn't one of the biggest, around, but there were lots smaller. Plus, it seemed to stay almost permanently hard; I was twenty-three, but my cock was still behaving like a randy teenager's.
With so much else changing in my life, I decided to try a new role in my gay life as well. Looking around and not knowing how to find a Canadian version of the older dominating men I preferred, I started to spend time with guys my own age, many of whom were hot and sexy and fun to socialize with.
The problem came when all those hungry bottom boys saw the permanently hard dick in my pants and mistook me for a new young top on the scene! My dick rarely failed me but topping young guys, however cute, really wasn't my thing. I was left unsatisfied and unhappy until an evening with one of those passive-aggressive bottoms led me back into the role that my submissive nature intended.
The boy in question was a nice guy called David who lived in a small apartment on the fifteenth floor of a downtown apartment building. He was five years older than me, a clean-shaven blond, roughly my height but heavier than me, with a good-sized dick and an insatiable asshole. I'd been going with him for about a month, long enough to know that all he wanted was to be fucked; he'd lie on his stomach happy as a clam while my ever-ready dick pumped away and then came up his ass.
That was always the way with guys like him; I was doing the fucking, but they were really in charge. He never offered to fuck me with that nice-looking dick of his; I rarely even got to suck it! The sex was boring, but I hung around because he was otherwise a nice guy and a fun person to be out with. And after all it was a guaranteed way of getting off at the end of the evening!
I was going through the motions with him waiting for a firm hand to remind me of my place on ladder of dominance and one hot, sticky Saturday night in September of that first year in Toronto, that person entered my life.
David and I had gone out dancing and drinking, getting back to his place sometime after midnight. As usual, he pulled me into the bedroom for a quick fuck, and after a few minutes of hard pumping I came up his ass, satisfying him for the time being. As it was such a hot, muggy evening, he suggested we shouldn't bother putting our clothes back on, and just sit outside on the balcony to cool off.
His apartment was up on the fifteenth floor and it was a moonless night; with all the interior lights turned off, no one could see us as we sat naked in the wet heat, drunkenly talking about the guys we'd mooned over and the music we'd danced to. However, it wasn't long before he got his "itch" back, and he started making noises about going back indoors for another fuck.
For once my ever-ready dick hadn't yet recovered, but when I told him he'd have to wait we heard a voice whisper to us from the other side of the balcony wall.
"David, you silly queen, you need a real man to fuck you, not some boy who can't get it up".
I was shocked and offended, but David just laughed.
"How come you're still awake Carlo? It's two in the morning and old people like you should have been tucked up in bed hours ago. Come on over if you think you can get it up before Ben does."
A couple of minutes later there was a knock on the front door and we got up to meet his next-door neighbour. Carlo turned out to be a handsome, forty-something of medium height and stocky build with dark curly hair and a full dark beard, wearing just a bathrobe.
As he grabbed my hand in a firm shake while openly appraising my naked body, David's phone began to ring. He excused himself to take it in his bedroom, worried that someone was calling so late at night. Before he'd even left the room, Carlo had already got his arm across my shoulders and was guiding me over to the love seat that, along with a matching armchair, was the extent of David's living room furniture.
We could hear David in the bedroom talking to what sounded like an ex-boyfriend of his regaling him with a long story about yet another broken relationship. Carlo said that while David was busy, the two of us should get to know each other, though it was obvious that the only thing he was really interested in was my body! He loosened the belt of his bathrobe and let it fall open, exposing his hairy torso and a thick beer bottle cock already beginning to lengthen. His arm came over the back of the loveseat and his hand started wandering over my chest, coming to rest on my right nipple.
I had prominent, meaty nipples that stuck out from my chest which the dominant men who'd used me back in England had worked on, but which none of the young guys I'd been messing with recently had bothered to touch. But Carlo started working on them immediately, reminding me that they were my most erogenous zone. He rubbed the nipple with his fingers, then tweaked it and squeezed it between thumb and forefinger, making me gasp with excitement.
He squeezed it harder and harder turning those gasps into quiet moans and we both looked down to see my dick responding, lengthening and hardening in tandem with his. I sat motionless, unable to move a muscle, enjoying the feelings he was conjuring up.
