A Man Called Top

I'm a salesman and I had a work trip to a little Canadian town with a population hovering near 5000 recently. It was a short trip from Washington and coming into town I passed the obligatory "Welcome to Osoyoos" sign. It billed itself as the warmest place in Canada, which I started to believe when I learned it had its very own desert. Who knew there was a desert in Canada? Or maybe it was the people who were warm?
I checked in to my motel and paid in cash because my credit card wasn't working. I grabbed my bag from my car, but then the room key didn't work either.
Next the clerk claimed I'd never checked in, and never paid, but told me I was welcome to book a room. I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone.
I went next door to a little diner to collect my thoughts and have dinner. What was I going to say to the clerk to make him see reason?
My waitress was a semi-attractive woman pushing forty. She displayed a few lumpy patches under her uniform, but was overall shapely with a nice ass. I think she was flirting with me, but reading people was never my strong suit. She might've just been a warm person.
If I came onto her in error I would make a fool of myself. I did nothing.
After dinner, I wasn't quite ready to try to work it out with the clerk, so I walked across the street to a little bar. I'm not a confrontational man by nature.
I couldn't drink too much or I'd be up several times in the night to go to the bathroom. A pitfall of growing older.
I was on the last beer I dared - beer number two, when a real life cowboy walked into the bar, scanned the room, sat right next to me, and bought me a drink. "Hey Partner. What brings you to our little slice of heaven?" This really was the warmest place in Canada.
He was a tall guy wearing the classic hat, and when the door closed behind him several people said their helloes, calling out "Hey Top." I was to learn a helluva lot more about that before the night was through.
We got to talking and it turned out he led trail rides into the desert but was also a professional masseuse. He had the kind of confident personality that always made me jealous.
In the course of conversation, he told me all about the different types of massages including, the standard, Percussion, PMT, and Sauna Massage.
The idea of a sauna massage intrigued me. It was just a massage given in a sauna room, and while I'd never had a massage, I liked saunas. I just didn't find them relaxing enough because you couldn't lay down.
In case you're wondering how a man gets to be 55, with sciatica, without ever getting a massage, it's because I'm not a touchy, huggy person. Generally I'd prefer not to touch or be touched - especially by a man.
He offered to let me try the Sauna Massage but I sorta declined his pitch. He pressed the issue assertively and it became harder and harder for me to deflect.
The PMT was another story, however. I'd never heard of one of those either. Basically it was a massage of one's prostate - Prostate Massage Therapy.
Now, that I could use!
Aggressively, he told me all about it in all the most glowing terms. It would be medicinally beneficial. The Prostate Wand was made of a soft forgiving material. I could even get it laying down in the sauna. When he said I'd only have to pay for it if it allowed me a bathroom-trip free night I agreed.
The sauna was as hot as I guessed the nearby desert to be, and only a few minutes into the massage and I didn't care when he removed my towel completely.
He also wore only a towel due to the heat. At first it was uncomfortable to be around a near nude man but he had a way of putting me at ease.
The massage itself was quite relaxing and I decided to start getting massages regularly in the future.
When it was time for the PMT he first massaged my perineum with his thumbs. There was an embarrassing dikmen escort stirring in my loins and I was glad my package was hidden underneath me.
Next he inserted the smallest of the wands to warm me up. There wasn't any touching of his hands on my anus so it was easy to pretend that another human being wasn't stretching it out. By now the heat and the massage had lulled me into a very relaxed accepting attitude anyway.
This first wand wasn't intended to work on my prostate, only to prepare the way for the larger wands.
Three progressively thicker wands later and he announced he would use the largest, the one with the hooked tip which would supposedly feel amazing on my prostate.
The others had felt pretty good, with the slick vibrations and all, so I was more than ready for one that would relieve my nocturnal bathroom trips.
Out of the corner of my half-closed eyes I saw him move some machine. It was the size of my fishing tackle box, but looked sufficiently medical. It was even painted Red-Cross red.
I figured the wand would get attached to it: to power the vibrating and thrusting he claimed would do miracles.
And if he was just selling snake oil I wouldn't have to pay. It was my lucky day in a life with too few lucky days and too many times when I'd trusted the wrong person.
I felt him climb up on the table. No doubt the apparatus was heavy, and hard to put into position. I had my doubts about him being on the table with me, but I didn't want to make waves. He'd been so nice to me all night - free drinks, no upfront payment for the massage, and he was an easy guy to talk to.
He put each of his hands on the table next to my ribs and placed the wand against my lubed and stretched asshole. I could already tell it was a large blunt instrument. But I trusted Top completely not to use a wand that was too big.
This one didn't vibrate anywhere near as strongly as the others. I easily could make out the buzzing, but the vibrations themselves were subtle. He said it had a vibrating ring.
The first entry was a little tense but Top's encouraging words helped a lot, "Don't worry lil' buddy. It's gonna feel real good. And when it milks your 'tate...well that's awesome!"
I quierried, "Milks?"
"Oh yea, it's gonna squeeze 'tate juice outta there. That's why there's a towel under your dick. That's how it relieves the pressure." I was thankful for the towel. I wouldn't want to leave any embarrassing smears on the vinyl table.
I was already feeling the pressure: "So just how long is it?"
"It's only a six, but it's thick. It's really all about how you use it. I'm gonna get the angle exactly right so it pushes on your 'tate rather than merely going straight in."
"Oh right. That's why you're on the table?"
"Um, yea, that's why."
The explanations all made sense so I let my nagging reservations go.
After the machine thrust a number of times he said, "OK, it's half way in now. This is the perfect depth to milk it. Now I'm gonna start changing the angle."
And boy did he ever! First it pushed back toward my spine, then to the sides, and finally it pushed right on that troublesome walnut which robbed me of sleep each night. There was no doubt that the end curved down in the best design to rub my swollen nut.
When the wand hit that spot I felt a big dollop surge through my growing penis and soak into the towel.
"Oh wow! I can really feel it milking me." I offered in relaxed tones.
To myself I mused, "I've really grown a woody. I'm so glad he's on top of me where he can't see it."
"That's right. This is gonna clean you right out. I'm gonna pick up the place a little. Are you ready for it?"
I acquiesced, "If you think it's best then do whatever. I can feel it pushing all round in there."
I went on, elvankent escort "You know I was worried it would be uncomfortable. But you were right about this biggest wand being soft. It's like it's coated with a spongy layer of foam or something."
Then I commented on his faster speed, "Oh! You weren't kidding. That's pretty fast."
Top was making some noises above me so I asked, "Did you say something?"
He answered, "Nah, I just have to guide it just right and it takes some effort up here." I pictured him suspended above the machine guiding it to the right places.
Just then the machine pushed the wand deeper. I grunted from the deep intrusion and my eyes popped open. Top grunted too.
The base of the machine touched my thighs and buns so I knew all six inches off the wand were in me. I felt really full, and knowing how good it was going to be for my prostate helped me cope with the discomfort - even enjoy parts of it.
The depth was a strain, while the stretching of my anal ring felt great, but the milking was fucking amazing.
Less relaxed now but definitely more stimulated I peered through the face hole in the table and happened to spy the red box sitting on the floor.
But if the machine was on the floor, what was I feeling between my thighs?
Top drove himself into my ass resting his hips on my buns and suddenly I knew he was fucking me!
It became clear that the wand was his cock. I could picture exactly what we would look like with him perched above my prone body, his hands on either side of me.
I could feel his skin on mine and his wiry pubes grazing my butt. It grossed me out and I almost objected.
I feared being fucked but I loved how gobs of fluid were continually being squeezed through my hard cock. In fact, at this point it all felt good and I could think of no actual downsides worth complaining about.
Then his body's weight was on mine and his face was near my ear, "You've finally figured it out? I never lied and I hope you like it. You know, I'm not stopping till the condom is bulging."
I thought back on his words. I was pretty sure he'd lied somewhere along the way. But I didn't care, "Fuck me Top! Fuck all the juice out of my prostate and don't stop 'till it's empty."
I imagined a steady stream of juice leaking from my rigid cock then culminating in orgasmic bliss.
He started bucking wildly with his hips, bottoming out each time, but also doing some kind of corkscrew to punch my offending organ.
His breathing was fast and ragged as he plowed my asshole. My breathing came in staccato gasps matching the pounding he was giving me.
My cock was swimming in a pool of slippery goo being ground into the cum-puddle deliciously.
He kept reaming me with his cock, and it was working so well. Actually, while my cock had grown merely from the stimulation of my prostate, now there was a new sexual electricity just from knowing he was enjoying my ass so much. It was as if I got off on being used for his pleasure.
The sexual feelings in my gut got stronger and stronger, then when he started talking dirty it drove me to new heights.
He was saying, "Man you've got a sweet ass and a tight body." No man had ever said that to me before. In fact, I'd never even considered that a man would find me attractive and it felt kinda nice to be appreciated.
He went on, "My wand loves your ass. And your naive innocence was such a turn on. When I first saw you sitting in our little bar I thought you were hot, but when I discovered you didn't know it was a gay bar I knew I had to have you."
At this point he pushed himself up on his hands propelling his hips as far down as he could, softly screaming,"Oh...Sweet...Ass."
As he was declaring how much he loved my ass he came. Could it be my imagination, emek escort or did I feel the condom fill up while pressing into my walnut?
Top fell on me exhausted, resting there in post orgasmic bliss for a minute or two before climbing off. His sweaty body touching me didn't seem as objectionable now.
Unceremoniously he climbed off leaving me abandoned.
He stood at a nearby sink disposing of the condom and washing his dick.
I lay there forgotten and without having had my own climax. Meekly I implored, "After all that you got from me...I would like to cum too."
Top stopped washing for a second, glancing my way in a flippant explanation, "You're a bottom."
When I kept waiting he continued, "And I'm a top. Bottoms serve the desires of the tops and if they cum, they cum."
For the first time I understood the name everyone called him by. I was sure that gay people I knew didn't have relationships like that, "Not with the people I know."
He dismissed them, "Well, there are versatiles. But I'm a Total Top: I'm always on top. Actually, I'm an Absolute Top: I'm a top with ladies or men and I don't care who, as long as I'm top.
I let that sink in - clearly my needs weren't going to be met. He walked over to me, his shrunken wand swinging to and fro. Then he tussled my hair, "Look kid, I'm sorry you didn't cum. If you want to cum just go find someone who fits with your desires. You're a cute kid, you won't have any trouble, either at the bar or with Rosie over at the diner."
As I was older than him I pondered him calling me "kid" diminutively.
"You mean the one with the big plump lips?"
"Yea, that's her. But don't count on a blowjob. She hates 'em. When I first met her I tried to get into her throat but she was always, and only, about the pussy. I changed that.
I cocked my head, "Whaddya mean?"
Well, I wanted to do her ass so I seduced her bum, rubbing it, rimming it, then I gave her the anal treatment. It was harder with her than with you 'cause she don't have a tate. But now that I've broken her in, that's the only way she does it - no need for birth control you see.
You go over there and give her some attention and you'll be screwing her ass in no time. Top, bottom, versatile, be whatever you want."
I started to get dressed, "Well, I really need some relief. But I guess I should fix my bill at the hotel first. They lost my payment."
"Ok, I like you, man. So let me ask you, the guy behind the counter. Was he a wiry guy in a worn out cap?" I nodded.
"That's Eugene. Tell him Top says you're OK and there's no problem with your booking. If that doesn't work - over there behind the bar there's a trailer. Come get me. He'll cave.
Ten minutes later I was sitting in my car working up the gumption to confront the clerk. Also still horny as hell.
I marched into the lobby pretending to be assertive like Top, "Eugine, we both know there's nothing wrong with my payment. I want my room."
He blinked twice then said, "Your room's ready when you need it, Sir."
It surprised me how easy it was. I didn't even invoke Top's name.
After getting settled in my room I had a decision to make: I could jerk off, go back to the bar, or go see Rosie. My prostate was so empty I just knew I was gonna have a great orgasm - not one to be wasted on my hand.
I stood up, pocketed my room key, and stepped out into a brave new world.
Author's note:
If you liked my story please give it a good rating. Add it to your favorites to read later if you want. Follow me and you'll see all my stuff.
I try but don't always succeed in creating a good story. Please add comments so I know what I'm doing well and what to improve on. If you want to talk I'll answer your friendly comments.
I often attempt to create tension in the main character's motives. In turn, this often means that characters in the story have flaws and might not even be nice to each other all the time.
I really appreciate polite comments!
(This story was inspired by that old joke about a man who goes to the doctor for a prostate exam. The punchline goes, "The doc put one hand on my left shoulder, then one on my right shoulder...Hey wait a minute!")