29 November 2012


Every bottom has his Topping Point.

The point when you enter the blurred world of versatility.  

Mine happened in a Dutch dark room. Natch.

My friend Andrew had organised a gay boys weekend away in Amsterdam for his 30th birthday. None of us had been before and we were excited at the lewd prospect Amsterdam had delivered so many of our friends before us. We all talked a big game about what we were willing to do or who we were willing to do. Little did I know, becoming a Power Top would be what I was willing to do.

We all wanted to see a sex show which was really a staple none of us were prepared to go without. So we parted with €40 and settled in for one of the most pathetic showings of intercourse I have ever seen. And it was straight. One of the guys was hot, but the girl seemed to being doing a horizontal marching band that put us all off.

Then a girl with the body of a boy came out and fucked herself with a dildo to Phil Collins, In the Air Tonight (actually happened).

We left after an hour (oh yeah, we made sure we got our €'s worth) only to have the show start again with the woman doing the horizontal marching band, march on. So choreographed, so disappointing.

Then we walked the streets of Amsterdam trying to find a gay bar that didn't cater exclusively to sextegenarians. We stumbled upon a clubby bar called The Church (I think) and dove on in. It was underwear night and while I'm sure we'd have all cut a fine figure in a pair of briefs, we weren't willing to go sans clothes in front of each other just yet. So we made our excuses and left.

The next night we headed back to the sight of the underwear party. Thankfully we were granted admission fully clothed as the evening's entertainment was a little more traditional - Drag Miss Universe. Natch.

Sidebar: I fucking love the Miss Universe pageant. Sorry wait, I am obsessed with the Miss Universe Pageant. When I was in high school, I would tape the telecast and watch and re-watch hoping, wishing that Miss Australia would go Top 10. She never did. Then in 2004 my lesbian flatmate came home and said very nonchalantly, "Did you hear that Miss Australia won the Miss Universe?"

"You mean Jennifer Hawkins?!"

"Er. Yeah Miss Australia. How do you know her-"

"Are you serious? You wouldn't make this up?" *runs to computer and types Miss Universe 2004 into search engine*

"I don't really care either way," she patronised.

Well when I had the proof right there in front of me on the computer screen, I couldn't believe it. We'd barely ever gone Top 15. We got Miss Congeniality 2 years running in the late 90s but that was it!

I don't think the boys who I went to Amsterdam with were prepared for how much I love Miss Universe. When we entered The Church bar I pointed to the various TVs around the bar that were already playing an unnamed pageant and remarked, "Oh they're playing Miss Universe 1994. Miss India won that one."

I was excited for the stage show as Miss Australia was well represented by a queen called Doug who had a beard. As the show started, I felt movement to my left and looked down and saw the back of a guy's head bobbing up and down. I deduced that he was giving a blow job and not wanting to to miss any of the show or give them any more attention than they deserved I turned back to the show appalled. I nudged, Adam, one of the other boys on the trip and told him what was going on and we rolled our eyes in judgement. 

Then a few minutes later a tap came on my left shoulder. I turned around and saw the two guys now standing up staring at me. One of them was quite a handsome young American. He looked like that Hayden Christensen guy. The other er, didn't.

The Hayden Christensen said, "Hi" and so did I. I turned back to Drag Miss Universe which was reaching a midway climax. A few moments later, another tap. I turned back around, smiled and then turned back. I wasn't sure what they were on about. Then it soon became apparent when an arm slipped around my waist and started undoing my jeans. I tried to alert Adam to what was going on but he was oblivious to the involuntary strip tease and kept talking about the show.

I had a choice: I could freak out like a frigid teenager and pull his hand away or I could risk having my genitalia exposed to the whole club as well as my friends. I couldn't even go to an underwear party the night before and I wasn't going to renege on that decision. I pushed his hand away and did my pants up saving my modesty.

This didn't discourage them and once again the hand slipped round and I once again pushed it away.

The show then reached it's half time interval and I felt I could not placate them any further so I turned around to face them. The Hayden Christensen kissed me straight away. OK. Then The Hayden Christensen told his his boyfriend to kiss me. Righto. Then The Hayden Christensen weaseled his tongue in between our mouths for a three way kiss. It was one of those moments where you aren't sure it's happening and then suddenly your'e flapping your tongue about in a ménage pash with no real direction as to the intended recipient. I know, how tacky, but it was fucking hot.

My friends who had their backs to me during the show and subsequently when our three way started, couldn't believe the pace I had moved.

They had literally turned their backs for one second.

The Hayden Christensen was all over me too. It's what I have always said about couples who want a threesome. They may present a united front, but ultimately it's one party who wants it more than the other.

"Let's go upstairs," said The Hayden Christensen.

I knew that this meant only one thing - my friends and I had scouted the dark room earlier in the night when it was less frequented. Although it was supposed to be dark it wasn't fully and it wasn't really a room, more a mezzanine onto the rest of the club with camo netting for that extra bit of privacy. I felt relieved that I could still see Drag Miss Universe whilst potentially being felat-ed.

I've never really been into sex on premises venues, nor a club with a back room. I just keep thinking about what has been before and wanting to follow everyone around with Spray n' Wipe. As we walked upstairs, I made an executive decision and backed out rather than back on to The Hayden Christensen. He seemed to be a little disappointed, but OK with my rectal refusal.

I was also really drunk. I don't care how hot anyone was, blowing me would have been like talking into a faulty microphone.

I walked back to my friend Andrew a little dejected. Why couldn't I be the dirty stop out for once? I told Andrew the sitch and this was his response:

"Do you want a Viagra?"

Over the next hour I ummed and ahhed about whether I should or not. I was airing on the side of no when I ran into The Hayden Christensen on his own and proceeded to eat his face off. I stormed straight back to Andrew and demanded he give me the little blue pill immediately.

It took about half an hour to come on and let me tell you it was like I had fed red bull directly to my penis. But it was more than that - I was off my face. I grabbed The Hayden Christensen and frog marched him up to the semi dark mezzanine, put him in a sling and banged him like a dunny door in a cyclone.

I was the man! Viagra was my Topping Point. But let's cut the shit, if a guy who looks like Hayden Christensen presents himself to you in a sling, I'm sure even some of the Drag Miss Universe contestants would have had a go. 

I went all right too. I felt like The Hayden Christensen was experienced enough to know how a good bum wrecking would go and he seemed to be making all the right noises. Although it was difficult to hear him as Drag Miss Universe was reaching a crescendo. Which I couldn't help but watch through the camo netting.

By this stage we had drawn an audience. The thing about any dark room sitch, is that you open yourself up to unwanted attention and being that a sling is more a focal point it is hard to inconspicuously bang the shit out of someone without demanding a response from the other patrons.

And my inaugural performance was getting rave reviews. I'm not going to lie, I felt a little over-exposed at this late stage, so I decided it was time to make a hasty exit stage left. I made my excuses to The Hayden Christensen, pulled my pants up and scampered back to my friends just in time to see the crowning of Drag Miss Universe.

Miss Guatemala, a portly gentleman in his 50s had eventually won the title. Must have been his final question that clinched it for him because he did not look good in a bikini.

I looked back up at the mezzanine of debauchery and wondered how The Hayden Christensen got out of the sling. Perhaps he was hoping I would help him down, but I was sure Miss America would have made the best of the situation.

As Miss Guatemala was taking her first walk as Drag Miss Universe, I thought, Miss Australia may not have won that night, Miss Australia may not have gone top 10, but this Miss Australia would never be the same again.


  1. Applause!!!!!! Kisses Gucci xxx


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