I strolled down Folsom street heading towards one of the better known gay S&M stores nestled in the heart of San Francisco. Though I had no idea what the weekend held in store for me, I found myself nonetheless excited to be visiting again and yet, just beneath that electric excitement was a sense of nervousness about entering a gay adult shop.
I was after some poppers, some must have lube and finally a new butt plug to replace the last one I'd thrown away in a fit of guilt. I wanted to enjoy the shop, then relax over a beer or two before retiring to the hotel room to enjoy working on getting the on the new plug fully inserted into me for the first time.
I found myself standing before the doors to the shop, so lost in my thoughts I hadn't realized how brief the walk was. A shiver of anticipation and self-consciousness ran down my spine as I opened the doors and stepped inside to hand my backpack to the store clerk behind the counter. They don't want people stealing merchandise.
Ah, but I am getting ahead of myself. An introduction is in order, on the surface of things, I might seem like an unassuming sort of fellow. A straight-looking and acting married man who likes to take make the most of business trips half-way across the world in order to indulge in my proclivities without any prying eyes to see my dirty inclinations. You'd think being 48 and married with children that I would be a bit vanilla, but there is a dark side that I have a burning need to entertain as I travel the world for work. My primary interests lie with fetishes: professional Femme Dommes for instance, latex, and anal. What got me started with anal in particular was finding some gay leather magazines when I was at college some 30 years ago. Although I'd already begun to explore using a range different household objects to fill my asshole as a teen. I became an avid reader of the magazines during my college days. The exciting new images flooding my fantasies then and to this day: hoods, funnels, nipple clamps, butt plugs, and when I tried them for the first-time after what seemed far too long a time to wait - I was helplessly and wantonly desperate to explore even more of this hedonistic path I now still follow.
***
As I began this journey of alternate sexuality it was the early '90's - well before internet porn was available. Google hadn't even been started, Yahoo didn't come on the scene until 1994, in those early years all you could do was buy the right magazines which were all laid out in full technicolor in adult bookstores. I was looking through the myriad of magazines and I came across a new one I had yet to see called "Serious Mistresses." My interest was piqued completely and absolutely. I thumbed through the sleek pages, my heart thumped with anticipation. My eyes came to rest on a number for a local dominatrix who called herself Mistress Cruella (yes, really) and offered domination sessions.
I quickly jotted the number down and made my way to a phone to give this Mistress a ring. I was delighted to hear the sweet seductive voice of a well-spoken woman who, after brief introductions, asked me what my interests were. I felt like a tongue tied kid and clumsily stammered out my confession that I truly did not know much about domination - only that I wanted to be dominated by a woman and was interested in anal being a part of that package.
"Oh," she purred softly into the receiver, I could almost hear a smile cross her wet lips, "You will make a perfect little pet. You have absolutely no idea just how much I adore anal sluts and using them."
My hardon was instantaneous and just as quickly as it started it was at full-mast. I kid you not when I say I practically came on the spot. She whispered seductively into the phone specific instructions on how to get to her. I wrote down every detail, desperate to see this hot and experienced woman who would open my world - not to mention my asshole. The instructions were such that I was to drive to a specific phone booth and call her from there, she'd be watching from nearby . She wanted to be careful about giving out her address which was an understandable precaution I thought. I wanted to change before meeting her, I had to look my best for my first time with a Mistress, I desperately wanted to impress her. I had no idea this would be the start of my spiral into depravity and I'd never look back once it began.
Once I met the Mistress - it quickly became a long-term mutual bond of submission and dominance. Over the years small thin dildos were replaced with bigger ones. There was much use of butt plugs of ever increasing size over greater extended periods of time as I became accustomed to her use and abuse of my ass. My sexual evolution rose then to a Mistress (not Cruella) fucking me hard with a beautiful big black strapon: naked, padlocked to a sling which was suspended from the ceiling, nipple clamps on, and all the while rocking to and fro - hurting my nipples more with each rock.
"Would you take a real cock for me now slut?"
She cooed temptingly into my ear one night, "Would you?" Her question barely registered to my conscious mind through the sexual haze induced by a generous helping of huffed poppers, but in my well-trained sub-space frame of mind I found the words tumbling out with automatic ease.
"Yes my Mistress! Please make me take real cock for you like the good slut I am!"
Turns out she meant it literally, not figuratively. She continued to pound me, pushing the sling I was shackled upon away from her until the tip of her cock just left my ass pussy (as she'd ordered me to think and refer to my asshole) then she'd pull me back onto her 8 inches of rubber slamming forward at the same time as she pulled me onto her rigid cock, causing me to scream in ecstasy. That is when I felt a hand on
my forehead accompanied by an order, "Turn this way slut." I turned to see a semi-hard black cut cock at least 7 inches long and wide, and wow I mean wide. The monstrously thick dick obscured my entire field of vision.
"Open up slut," came my Mistresses firm command. The excitement was clear in her voice,
"It's time to please me and make me wet. Suck him for me. Show me how much of a cock slut you are for me".
Physically my legs were opened wide but it was mentally where my horizons grew: from those first professional Femme Dommes, to worshiping the subs of those Dommes, to exploring TV Mistresses, and finally, to where I should have been all along, worshipping real gay Masters.
So here I was years later facing a single massive room with several side rooms branching off from it. Each room was full of every depraved piece of equipment my pig mind could have possibly imagined. It was Friday afternoon, my work finished, and with the weekend stretching ahead of me in a city full of gay opportunities, I could only think - how lucky am I.
****
"First time here," inquired the guy manning the counter as I passed my backpack across. Eyeing him up and down I saw he was a solidly built 5-foot 11-inch chiseled frame of muscle and sporting a singlet with accentuating short-shorts. His piercing blue eyes were framed by luxuriously thick black hair and despite all that masculine energy and strength he exuded he seemed more of a bottom than top to my untrained eye.
"Nope," came my easy response, "been here once before on a trip to San Fran." I found I was growing in confidence. My once deeply held concerns were gone allowing me to feel more and more excited about the items I could see. I'd read that they sold the little bottles of brown I so greedily craved, it was an understatement to say I wanted poppers a lot. Still - there were some nerves as I pondered if what I wanted to do might be an issue or not in the establishment. Push coming to shove I considered a way to imply that I wanted to buy poppers in order to intermittently sniff whilst walking around the shop to feed into my inner heathenistic sexual fires and desires.
"Could I buy a bottle of brown now but continue to look around and peruse more of the items please?"
"Sure, cash only though." The store clerk reached under the counter and brought out a tray with varied brands of poppers.
"Don't have too many of these in here," he quipped with a mischievous gleam in his eyes and flirtation in his voice, "you never know what might happen if you do!" The addition of a wicked grin on his handsome face caused my cock to jerk to life of its own accord. My only thoughts were how things seemed to be getting more interesting by the minute. After some cute small talk and a few moments of deciding which poppers I wanted, we completed the sale.
"Enjoy looking around and let me know if you need any help or information," he offered helpfully as we concluded things, "there's a lot of fun to be had for a naughty little boy like you." He seemed to know that I was a total bottom with much more certainty than I had been thinking he was a bottom. I couldn't say how he knew and for all my guesswork - he could be a complete top.
Then I realized I slunk into the shop like a nervous schoolboy, it must have been obvious for anyone that I was clearly a bottom - and a nervous one at that!
"Thanks!" I called over my shoulder at the last moment before I completely forgot myself, "I'll keep your offer in mind. I have the whole weekend to have some fun after all." Shit! Why had I blurted that out? I looked at my unopened bottle of poppers; I couldn't even blame it on them yet for not thinking clearly.
"Well, well," he laughed playfully as he placed his elbows on the counter and leaned forward, "lucky you! Did you mean that you're free from this point on for the whole weekend? Or are you just done for today but will have to work again at some point?" Admittedly I thought the question a strange one to ask me, but at the same time it seemed harmless enough.
"Oh no," I now turned as my confidence grew, "No more work for me this evening or the rest of the weekend. I'm just footloose and fancy free." Could you blame me for enjoying the flirtatious exchange between us, even though I did prefer the company of more overtly domineering men.
