Fresh Meat
Last month I was invited to a Chub Party. I went.
Turned out I was fresh meat.
The party happens once every few months and is a by-invitation-only party offered to chubs and guys who chase them (chubby or not). I was invited by the host of the party, a chubby chaser who I met on Bear411 and who is a tall drink of water who used be deeply involved in a Gentle Giants chapter in town until it folded. His house is in a quiet neighborhood, semi-rural, foresty and beautiful, with many rooms on two levels and a humungous hot tub in the comfy, remodeled garage.
Here are a few impressions.
Chubs don't kiss when greeting each other as a lot of bears do. This is, I know, a generalization and there are exceptions. For instance, when I walked in, the host (fuck that man's handsome) took me in his solid arms and kissed me deep and long. We had never met face-to-face. He's a good kisser. He's good at lots of things to do with lips on the body. As I found out later.
Chubs don't care if you're a chub. There's something really nice about not having to leap the first hurdle of your looks. I mean seriously. At most bear events or other gay events, it becomes instantly clear when you enter the room that you are a specialty item and that people don't first think of you as you, but as a fat guy. When you're at a chub party, there's none of that. It all rides on who you ARE, not just physical chemistry. And being a bear is a plus because many chubs are not. So yippee for me.
Chubs are obsessed with food. It's not a judgment; it's an observation. Knowing this, the party is set up as a potluck. I baked and brought a lasagne. My friends Rod & Jim, who I came to the party with so I wouldn't have to drive, brought magnificently barbecued little wieners that had been bubbling in a crockpot for half the day. There were cakes and chips and (diet) sodas and salads.
Chubs are also obsessed with discussing their diabetes. I thoroughly understand that... it's like elderly people discussing their bowels. Managing the condition takes a lot of time and thought. But I'm beginning to think that the obsessive talking about it can sometimes be a new form of self-loathing. Listen, most of us big guys struggle with diabetes. It's nothing to be ashamed of. I'm just sayin'.
Chubs love Family Guy. At least at this party. It was kind of on all the time. God bless (or curse) Hulu.
Chubs love tubs. The hot tub, as mentioned, is gi-normous. At one point there were 10 chubby men in it (including me) and the water was delicious and hot enough that you didn't want to soak too long. No one wore bathing suits. A ring of other men stood around the tub in various stages of dress, watching and chatting. At one point, being the new guy, I got ganged up on a little. There was one guy working my dick, two guys one for each nipple, one guy kissing me and one guy rubbing my belly and legs. That was fuckin' nice. There was lots of joking and horseplay and kissing and kissing.
Fresh meat.
After a half hour in the tub, when I was light-headed and thirsty, I decided to get out for a while. But as I was halfway out, standing high over the group, the host said, "Wait!" and grabbed my thigh. I turned, and that left me on naked parade in front of the whole tub. "Perfect position," he said as he turned around, kneeling in front of me. And in front of the group, the host blew me magnificently. What could I do? He was the host. It's his house. I had to be polite. So I gave it to him. Kinda skull-fucked him at the end. While all the chubs watched. It was so exhibitionistic, dizzily erotic, this really superb cocksucker mauling my dick, the guy behind me holding me upright and working my nipples hard, all the chubs watching, some touching themselves. It didn't take long and it was the best orgasm I'd had in a long time.
Fresh meat alright.
Later on, after recovering, there was this gorgeous couple: a tall blonde bear chub and his chaser daddy, dark and muscley. The daddy was the one holding me up in the hot tub. They ambushed me in the kitchen. The chub cub pulled me to him by my shirt lapels and began kissing me, his hand reaching down into my pants and finding what he wanted to find. We were enjoying ourselves immensely when the daddy chaser came up behind me and began rubbing his (more than ample) junk against my ass. I was the creamy center in a heavenly manwich.
"You want my daddy to fuck you, don't you?" the chub whispered.
Uh. Yeah...
But, I don't know... I had met and kissed so many guys and had a really good exhibitionistic blowjob and I was a little tired and my head was spinning and so I began demurring. They kept at it though, and it was so hard (literally) to decide. Finally, the cub went off to play somewhere. At that point, with daddy chaser still making his insistence known, another guy (a very hairy bear chub with a handlebar mustache) came up and unzipped our pants, working us both over.
This was too much for one kitchen. So we slipped into the den and stripped. Daddy Chaser was in charge.
I've never sucked a guy (handlebar) while taking it up the ass before (Daddy), but I did that night. It was a first and it was so hot. I was a slut on a rug. I'm not ashamed to say it. Daddy Chaser is a merciless man. And Handlebar has a really, really sweet dick. (Though, honestly, I am not the best multi-tasker in the world and I'm afraid Handlebar didn't get the best work I've ever done. But he seemed pretty content and had no complaints.)
Later I found out that the blonde chub cub was pissed off he wasn't there. I made up for it a week or so later when I went to their house and fucked them both blind. That's just the kind of guy I am.
When I left the host made it clear that I would be back for the next party.
P.S. Some of this may sound to you like bragging. Well, hell, maybe it is. I was fresh meat. How can you blame me?