Reality

I had been to a party that evening. To say that it was predominantly bears would be an understatement.

We've been through this before on this blog - I might be a bear from the 70s or 80s - meaning full and hairy. Now I don't know what I am. Bears today are just fat. Let's just call it what it is. I'm 6'2" and about 190. I'm not thin, I'm not fat. I'm like the fucking third bear in 'Goldilocks'.  I'm just fucking right!

Actually, maybe one-third were the nowadays bear type. Maybe another third the old bear definition. And then there were a spattering of others. There wasn't really a twink in sight.

You could probably count the men without facial hair on two hands - maybe one - and there were a good 130 folks at this party. Off the top of my head, I can only remember four with no beard, goatee or mustache.

Many of the men were handsome. One, I had a slight crush on, but he was watching the football game and ignoring me.....and most everyone else. I'd catch him giving me a sideways glance, mostly because two guys I was conversing with mentioned my liking of this guy.

Normally, I'm not a shy guy....unless I like someone. Then I'm 13 and don't know how to interact. If it were just fucking.....I'm golden. And of these 130 folks, I knew a dozen or so, all who were around me......watching.....waiting......judging. Like I need that shit.

I was completely thrown off guard when he stopped by to say, "it was nice to meet you" - and in my clumsy, moronic comeback of "we didn't actually meet.....", and he was gone.

And while that guy was handsome, he was, dare I say it, oddly goodlooking to me. I would suspect others might not see him through my eyes.

However about another guy there, it is doubtful anyone would have discounted he was in the top 5 of great looking guys at the party.

Taller than myself. Masculine looking. Dark blonde hair. NO facial hair. Well dressed. Wedding ring. And alone.  ......not that I noticed!

Ok I did - but so did everyone else. I saw no one talk to him. I'm not sure if he didn't know anyone, wasn't well liked or my third guess which is more accurate:  he was a little shy and his stellar looks ironically made him unapproachable.

He left the party maybe an hour before I did. And by the time I did, I was sporting a good buzz.

I was back safely and logged onto Scruff and boom - there he was, 3 miles away. So I shot a non-threatening message, though a little stalker-ish:  "have fun at the party?"

He did, though he said no one talked to him. I theorized with him as to why and he was stunned that anyone would think he was goodlooking.  Either he is totally unaware (I said, "do you own a mirror?"), he's modest or just lying. Either way, it was endearing.

He said he was at home, naked playing Wii tennis.

That's quite an admission for just a Scruff conversation, but I pictured it in my head immediately. Which was maybe his end game. Then he shot me a few pictures of himself.....all his ass.

Damn!

A fucking gorgeous bottom.  Who the fuck needs that???

Still, by this time I was drunk and horny. And we had engaged in banter. He wanted to get together, and I thought I'd quash it by saying I was too drunk to drive. He goes: "I'll be there in 5".   Fuck. I had to get my 'top act' together.

He was right on time. He stripped right down.

Here is a great thing for us folks who are sensitive by our looks. The guy had a great face and dressed well, but all that hid a very very average body. Hairless. Pale. Small nips. Average cock.

He kissed, but not well. He ate ass, but not well. He sucked cock ok though.

All of this you could say was disappointing. To me, it was kind of reaffirming. Looks don't give you everything.

Nothing was wrong with him at all. But it's that bar haze (even though I wasn't at a bar) being lifted and reality is just that: reality.  He was human and flawed like all of us.

Soon enough he was bent over the bed. I had lube, I used it. He didn't ask for a condom, I didn't offer. He said in his Scruff chat something about being bred. I assumed he knew what that meant. Innocent, he wasn't.

He cringed and pulled away at my entry. I wasn't delicate about it, but he wasn't new to this either. And yes, I can be large, but he seemed to be that incognito slut. The guy no one would suspect would show up at your place at 3am.

I went in easier on next try. He opened up nicely. The rug in the room gave for shitting grip and the fuck was awkward. I mean, I was trying to be a top, so awkward would be the best case scenario.

We changed positions to him on his back, center of the bed.

He was talking about how he had fucked someone earlier in the day. He didn't know who it was. Never asked. They never talked. But I knew it might just be talk, since his legs were at my shoulders ever so easily. I'm not sure he was any more of a top than I was. If at all.

Being drunk didn't help me, but it might have assisted him. When I got to going, I was really putting it to him. But it was a clumsy fuck, I felt on my side. If he did, he said nothing.

And yes, I bred him. 7 days of cum into his tiny hairless hole.

As he dressed, he yammered on about Wii Tennis. How he plays, who he plays, etc.  I mean, I was starting to think it was at least one reason why no one might have chatted him up at the party.

While I was still a little drunk, I was seeing more clearly. Facially he was still handsome, though dare I say, not as much so as when a group of us spotted him at the party. Beer Goggles and all. But the sheen had worn off him too. He was no longer on a pedestal,  this unobtainable man.

He was just a regular guy who like semi-anonymous sex.

...and that works for me.