Until I met Miguel. Miguel made no mistake about it, he called himself a “top” and made sure I knew it. He made no issue in telling me he liked to...fuck, not be fucked. I considered myself a strong, masculine type of guy, not really a “bottom.” But, I was drawn to him, I wanted to know him in every way. The first time we met, he confidently reached out and rubbed my swelling cock through my pants. I had not had all that much experience and his forwardness surprised me a little, and I found it. When everyone was asleep, deep into the night, he crept downstairs and into the living room where she was sleeping on the couch. She breathed very heavily, and he knew it would take a lot to rouse her. Her left tit was nearly hanging out of her skin tight leopard skin top, and it teased him too much. He dared not to go too far, as to wake her, but he felt this would be safe enough. And so he tenderly cupped his hand in between her tits and the top, brushing his palm against her nipple, which. More

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