sometimes my behavior surprises even me . . . like Sunday night at Splash . . . D and i needed a dance fix and had gone to hear Susan Morabito . . . he had to work the next morning so we each took half a hit of an old batch of X, not really expecting much to happen . . . but i really don’t have any other explanation for letting some adorable guy go down on me on the dance floor . . . well, actually i do . . . any port in a storm as they say . . . i had been dirty dancing with this pretty Latin fellow who loved me from behind but dumped me as i turned around . . . ouch! but i kept right on grooving despite my inner turmoil and caught the eye of some hunky young guy with a hairy chest standing off to the side . . . when he started dancing nearby, i moved to face him . . . i guess he liked what he saw . . . or maybe what he felt . . . he put his hand down my pants almost immediately . . . fortunately i was still functional and before i knew it he pulled out my nearly erect cock, bent over and began to suck . . . u slut! screamed the judgmental little voice in the back of my head . . . what the fuck are u doing? this isn’t a circuit party and the dance floor isn’t even that crowded! . . . i guess the unthinking part of me must have passed some kind of test because he asked me to go home with him but not before dragging me by my dick over to a much bigger daddy type with a potbelly and feeling him up, too . . . while i didn’t share his attraction for the other guy, i wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize his ego-boosting invitation even tho i now began to wonder about his taste . . . fortunately, he settled for me alone . . . we went back to his room which was just as messy as he had said it would be and hung with a series of artsy, double-exposed photos he had taken during college . . . we had sex twice: he came when i fucked him in the mouth and he came when i fucked him in the butt . . . did someone say total bottom? . . . not that there’s anything wrong with that, but i left feeling like i had been used by youth and beauty . . . which, in the final analysis, doesn’t feel that much different than being rejected by it.