I became an expert in evaluating men’s asses.

I wanted to find a date, so I began visiting the men’s shower at the Y.  At first, I felt a little out of place, standing there naked without a bead of sweat.  But soon I felt comfortable as I turned on the shower and the warm water splashed on my body.

I looked around me.  There were naked men, mainly middle-aged, a little out of shape.  I noticed a younger fellow in the corner.  He looked fit.  But he still was not my type.  Just not exactly right.  I had very exacting standards.  The guy I was looking for had to be near-perfect.

I completed the shower with soap and shampoo.  There was little more to do except to turn off the water, towel off, and dress.  I would call it quits for the day.  No luck today.  Maybe better luck tomorrow.

I walked out of the Y to my car.  I could remember the asses I had examined.  They were not exact matches.  Too bad.  But I could not expect a perfect strike.  It could be days, weeks, or months before I struck gold.  I was serious about dating.  I wanted to get married.  It was not just casual sex.

I had always regarded love to be just as important as sex.  One needed both elements to marry.  It had to be a long-term relationship, not just a single meeting.  Love meant being emotionally attached to your partner, while sex was a mere physical relationship.  Sex was still important, but it wasn’t everything.

Back in college, I had dated a few men, but we were mainly fooling around.  One fellow took me out three times, and he fucked me real good each time.  I think we saw a movie, and then we went to his apartment.

He asked me to doff my clothing.  I complied and stood naked in front of him.  He was still clothed, and he looked me over.   I had the right parts - a nice cock, fairly sturdy muscles, not too much body fat, broad shoulders.  He liked me, and he nodded his head.

I turned around and bent over.  His cock was hard and wide.  He held it in my ass for a couple of minutes.  When a man fucks another man, it is a very exciting experience.  One man is stronger than the other, and the smaller man must accept his cock.  It is not always easy.

He went in and out several times.  I could feel the full weight of his body pressing against mine. It was both thrilling and chastening.  He was powerful.  I had known that as soon as we met.  He always seemed very sturdy and forthright, a good husband.

At the same time, I could feel the fucking in my heart.  If I did marry him, it would be like this for the rest of our lives.  His cock and my ass, forever locked together in a husband-wife relationship.  It would require some discipline to proceed with this arrangement.  I would always be his subordinate.

Eventually he exploded with an orgasm, and the fucking was over.  He withdrew his cock, and I could finally relax.  It was both hard and soft.  I thought about what it meant.  I was not merely fucking for fun.  There was a serious side to dating, and I wanted to do everything right.

Fucking is a union between two men.  When his cock is in my ass, we are equal.  This is very important because in everyday life, the husband is supreme.  But in the fucking, both partners contribute equally.

None of my college relationships survived.  We met, fucked, and parted.  For some reason, we were incompatible.  It was fun and exciting, but it was also fruitless.  It was a waste of time.  Dating is most successful when it leads to marriage.  Without a permanent bond, it was just a singular orgasm.

The next day at the Y was uneventful.  I let the warm water wash over me while I examined each and every ass in the shower room.  None seemed to match my needs.  If I did find the right guy, I would walk up to him, tap his shoulder, and ask, Can I have a date with you?

It would be that simple.  Just a single question posed to a stranger with a nice ass.  Unfortunately, I met nobody, so I finished the shower, dried off, walked naked to my locker and dressed quietly.

I always enjoyed being nude while most men wrapped themselves in a bath towel.  I preferred to walk naked to my locker.  I figured a guy could spot me and ask me for a date.  But today it didn’t happen.  I simply donned my underwear, shirt, and shorts, tied my sneakers, and patted my wallet in my pocket.  It was over.

The following week was also nothing.  Every day was the same.  I stripped and showered, examined the asses around me, and left.  One guy’s ass did look impressive.  It was sturdy, muscular, and shapely.  But he didn’t have the right build.  He looked too skinny.  Ass good, body bad.

I liked to see the men covered in soap.  They looked sexy.  Then they turned the shower on, and the soap went down the drain. I had never been attached to girls.  Ever since a young age, I had always been gay.  I once got in trouble for throwing balls at the girls during recess.  That clearly is an indication of sexual preference.

I continued my search.  I figured time was on my side.  If I simply persisted long enough, I should be able to find a date.  But the question was: how long would it take?  I figured if I dated a man and he did not like me, he could pass my name to a friend.  That would be ideal.  I could have a network of dates.

I was approaching the third week, still without any luck.  There were plenty of asses, just not the right ones.  I looked hard at each one.  I tried to imagine a sexual encounter.  I applied some thinking.  What would it be like to be fucked by this man?  Would we fit together?

Finally, one day I struck gold.  There was a young man about my age.  His ass looked firm.   He had a good build.  I had instant love with him.  Each time he moved his body, I could see how I could fit.   It looked like we were dancing together.

I walked up behind him and tapped his shoulder.  He turned, and I asked, Can I have a date with you?  He said, Yes, so I gave him my name and phone number.  He said he would call me at 9:30.

I rinsed off the soap and dressed.  I drove home and simply waited.  This was possibly the great break I was hoping for.  A chance for a royal fucking!

At 9:25, my cellphone rang.  He was Ron, and he would pick me up.  I was quietly elated, but the date had not started.  I would have to meet Ron before I could like him.