If anyone's heading to New Orleans and wants to coax a hot spoiled-brat "Top" into some anal, let me know and I'll set you up with my good ol' pal to "screen" you.OK, now on to the rest of Saturday Eve, after boning my second piece of ass at the porn shop, I sped to meet Sven at the BART station (turns out he was early). He had no problem waiting as he was busy "hitch-hooking" on the corner. When I finally got to meet him, the boy was looking FINE. We first went to stroll down Castro, stopping in a couple bars, but just to see the crowd, not really to enter, then to coffee. I had a major Jones for ice-cream but there was only one pretentious "gelato" place on the street and I really didn't feel like getting disappointed from some sort of close proximation to real gelato, and opted to get some drum-sticks from the corner Wallgreens. "You'd think there would be more places selling ice-cream here in the Castro" remarked Sven, which for those of you who don't know is a clear reference to all the heroin fiends located in the vicinity and their propensity to eat ice-cream in lieu of solid foods. Sven and I usually have some very cerebral conversations, but one dead-ended on whether or not Will Wheaton had committed suicide on an "Uh-huh!" "Uh-uh!" note. Finally Sven bet me dinner he had, so since we were in a Starbucks, I hit up some rather geeky looking guys on their computer to go to IMDB and prove to Sven that Will Wheaton was actually very much alive (unfortunately). Turns out Sven was actually thinking of Jonathan Brandis (RIP). From Starbucks, we headed to a couple more clubs, then finally settled into one where Sven recognized a good friend of his that he knew (good guy). I noticed a couple guys checking me out and told Sven and his friend, who then volunteered to "chat them up". OK, here's the weird thing; I was getting a lot of attention (mostly unwanted) that night with guys coming up to punch me in the chest or grab my ass (this is why I don't go out to gay bars). And while both these guys were staring me into bed, once our two groups merged, neither would so much as make eye contact with me. Sven was getting a lot of attention and was reciprocating with one guy (the two were nearly tearing each others' clothes off). Sven's new friend (I'll call him Roadie, since he lives in Rhode Island) was buying everyone drinks...except me (didn't even bother to ask). I thought this was extremely rude, even though I DON'T drink and would have politely said no. But still, that was pretty blatant. I ended up casually walking away from that group to talk to some younger Twinkish guys, who were very interested in Sven and I coming back home with them (but they lived in a land far far away, known as the Richmond, so I opted to stay put). By that time it was closing so I went back to Sven and the new entourage where we were soon directed outside since the bartenders didn't want any laggards. OK, outside Sven's friend had now made his good-byes (he had a boyfriend anyway, so was just playing "touchey-feely" with his new friend in typical San Francisco fag-fashion) so now Roadie's friend (Let's call him Can-fag, as he is a very Canadian gay guy who is obviously bitter that his circuit boy looks have since begun to whither) was left alone. I started to make small conversation with him, to which he perked up and then started gushing all over me. "you're so hot! why don't you have a boyfriend? You could have got any boy in there tonite? why did you seem so disinterested? I thought you were stuck up and didn't want to talk to us..." etc. The fact is I was disinterested as they both seemed extremely shallow, but I would have still been social for Sven's sake.
Since I was the only one with a car and I was getting VERY cold out there in my muscle shirt on the street, I interrupted Sven and Roadie's lip-wrestling contest to coax them all to drive somewhere (at least I could put the heater on). Sven directed us to a part of SF with a great view, but also a strategic place for him and Roadie to "get it on". Meanwhile, I was stuck with Can-fag's bitter rants about how horrible it is to live in SF and how I should go out more since he's never seen me in a club. When Sven and Roadie finally got back to the car after their moonlit adventure, Can-fag finally consented to allowing us all to go back to his place, even though his boyfriend (yup, surprise, surprise) was recuperating from getting some cancerous growth removed from his nose (or "missing part of his face" as Sven privately remarked to me out of ear-shot). Although by this time I was getting pretty annoyed at the drunken back-and-forth "are you sure?" "yeah, I'm sure" between Roadie and Can-fag, we ended up back at their place. I was intrigued to see if this would indeed turn into a four-way with me getting to fuck 3 holes. But what it turned out to be was a big mind-fuck on the part of Can-fag, who had some weird "lord and master" relationship with his best-friend, Roadie. There was a bit of show-and-tell here and there (and neither Roadie nor Can-fag really had anything to tell about), culminating in Can-fag wanting (nay, demanding) Roadie to suck me in the open air of his front porch (this was really borderline "slave" kinda stuff). By this time, Sven was tuckered, and was resting in the guest room, so I told Roadie I'd let him suck me, as long as immediately afterwards he let me fuck him with Sven. Can-fag (note: NOT Roadie) said "OK" as if consenting his slave to be used. I let Roadie taste my dick to get his apetite going. It was a pretty sloppy, drunken suck-job, but I was a trooper for a minute or so, then said, "OK, time to head to bed". After a couple more minutes of drunken banter, Roadie finally made it back to bed, where Sven was pretending to sleep. I pulled Roadie's clothes off (eeesh! This boy definitely looked better with clothes on) and tried to fuck him. And of course, after less than an inch of my cock he bucked and said, "I don't think I can do this. I think 'Can-fag' gave you too much expectation. I don't usually get fucked" etc etc etc. OK, I know what he really wanted: to be kissed, assured, caressed, told he was so "hot" and how good it was going to feel, and that I really was into him- but none off that was gonnna happen. At this point it was 4AM and I just didn't have it in me. So, I just nodded and said, "hey, man. I understand." and got dressed to leave.
I knew Sven was really only pretending to sleep and would have joined in had anything gotten started. But I also knew he was a big-boy and could take it from there. Apparently after I left, Roadie just started taking Sven's clothes off and raping the boy (well, can't rape the willing). And the next morning Sven, Roadie, Can-fag and his recuperating ("hideously deformed" as Sven was fond of saying) boyfriend had a nice post-coital breakfast together. Meanwhile, I was wiped the whole next day from lack of sleep. Sven is great to hang around and I enjoyed the night on the town. I don't really think I could take too many of those tho.
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