Loud

I've fucked my share of loud bottoms. A bottom who just lies there and takes it is a lousy bottom, no matter how tight the ass. A bottom who just lies there, takes it, and moans or even screams is still not a great bottom, but he's a lot better than the guy who's not making any noise.
My blog title is inspired by the loudest bottom I ever had, a guy I dated for a month about six years ago, when I was first out. I was living in an apartment then, and after every time we had sex, I worried that the neighbors would complain. I didn't worry about it during sex because he was a great lay.

There is pretty much no kind of guy that I don't like, but there's always been a special hard spot in my groin for Asian men. Robert was half-French and half-Vietnamese. He was born in Vietnam but raised in the U.S. Unfortunately, he didn't have an accent (I love guys with accents), but he did have pecan-colored skin, almost no body hair, full lips, and a tiny uncut cock. I've never been a first-rate cocksucker, and I was even much less skilled back then, but I could handle his. He was such a bottom that he had (despite being much more experienced than I) hardly ever been sucked off, so when I put his cock in my mouth and shoved my tongue between his tight foreskin and his tiny cockhead, he'd shoot his load in about forty-five seconds. Every man should be that way. He and I were (and are, I guess) polar opposites: a guy who wants to eat my load had better be prepared for at least a half hour of hard labor, and even then, I might have to help him out by jerking myself off nearly to the point of ejaculation.

Robert was a pretty good cocksucker, but mostly he wanted soft kink and hard fucking. He was the first guy to ask me to tie him up, the first guy who could take a really intense nipple chewing, the first guy who liked to involve food in our play. Most of all, he was the guy who taught me that a bottom who's screaming anything other than "stop!" is really saying "more!"

Sex is all about getting beyond your conscious mind. You can talk about sex, and you can write about sex, and sometimes reading about sex can be really hot, but you always know that the words are just a shadow of the experience. That combination of joy and ferocity that you get when your body is fully engaged is truly ineffable. In part, that's why so much of what people usually say during hot sex makes so little sense. Words are inadequate, though they're often appreciated.

As it happened, those apartments must have been very well soundproofed. Maybe it helped that I lived on the top floor, too, but the only time I ever heard anything coming from another apartment was when I was coming up the stairs, and I could hear the voices of people in their living rooms, coming through their front doors. The only noises I ever heard in the bedroom were noises that I made or that I made someone else make.

Good thing, too. There were several times when I had Robert's wrists tied to my headboard, and after having eaten melted chocolate or warm raspberry sauce off his nipples (and having fed him whipped cream off my cock), I'd keep chewing, and he'd start screaming. Then I'd keep twisting the nips and start licking his ass. He'd start to get louder and heavy moans would be interspersed with increasingly urgent requests for me to fuck him. He was a fairly small guy and his ass was really tight around my thick cock, and by the time I was halfway inside him, he'd be on the verge of screaming. At that point, I couldn't help myself, and I'd bite down hard on his nipples, and that would start the real yells, which made me drive all the way into him and fuck him hard until I came.

Afterwards, he'd be hoarse.

Robert and I had nothing in common, and we would never have seen so much of each other for a month if the sex hadn't been amazing. My own skills and tastes have evolved a great deal since then, and I certainly wouldn't say that he was the best I've ever had, but he helped me get going in some directions that have turned out very well, and he'll probably always be in my top ten.