I’ve noticed that when I get on a bit of a roll about things bisexual, I wind up immersing myself in my experiences, peeking at the things I’ve done, the things that went well as well as those things that could have been better, and opportunities that slipped through my fingers and mostly because I don’t take hints very well.
When my mind decides to do this, I always wind up going back to the very beginning and, at the speed of thought, reliving the experience that put me on this sexual path; memories of what I call my buck-wild, kid-in-a-candy-store period are looked at and I can even feel embarrassed at my behavior, taking full advantage of any moment I could have sex with another guy. Hell, sometimes, I feel like those moments border on being downright disgraceful; things like common sense was voided, personal safety not much of a consideration, and other sensibilities that I would observe today were of no consequence.
All that mattered was the chance to have that kind of sex, to suck a guy off (and be sucked off by him); to be fucked (and do some fucking). As the memories flowed by at the amazing speed of thought, wow, I’m actually kind of ashamed of how I behaved in those wild moments – but it’s all moot because the past cannot be changed; you can’t take back something that’s already been done and, being honest with myself, just because I wouldn’t behave like that today doesn’t change the fact that I did, in fact, do the shit I was doing.
Regrets. As one of my favorite songs says, “I’ve had a few, but not too many…,” those few moments where having sex with another guy sound like a good idea at the time but turned out otherwise. My thoughts kinda paused here to take a closer look, peering at the times when I found myself deeply into that moment and then wondering just why in the hell did I decide to do this with this guy, feeling the burning internal heat of knowing I made a mistake and the frantic feelings of trying to figure out how to correct it.
You get to understand a few things from a woman’s point of view, things that straight guys can’t ever really understand, like how it feels to be humiliated and used, how you can think or expect that things are going to go a certain way – read this as the way you wanted them to – only to have things be very different. You learn, the hard way – and the pun is intended – that just because you go into this thinking that your ‘partner’ in this is going to care about your pleasure, that might not always be the case. You find that being treated like you’re somebody’s bitch is in no way a good way to feel.
The thoughts continued to flow and I kinda shivered as my mind swept past those regrettable moments, knowing that, retrospectively, I should have been more careful, used better judgement, all those things that the man I am today would pay close attention to. Then again, the regrets aren’t all that bad because if nothing else, I learned some important shit, didn’t I?
My thoughts went high-level, abandoning the memories of those events and looking more at how things made me feel. You guys always see me writing that unless you suck dick or have been fucked in the ass, you really have no idea of just how good it can feel. It’s a lot of concentrated work to suck a man off and there’s a joy in this, knowing that you have direct control of his pleasure while being lost in the assault on your senses as you bring him closer to completion. I found myself smiling over how it made me feel to hear a guy cursing his ass off right at the moment of release, his sperm flowing in whatever way it was, the taste, the feel, and the egotistical rush of knowing that I made him do this.
Like I said, those of you who don’t suck dick, you just don’t know…
I used to love being fucked despite the initial discomfort. Those of you who have had a man’s cock in your ass, you know exactly what I’m talking about. There’s just something so very nice to feel his weight bearing down on you, feeling his hardness inside of you; even if he doesn’t make it inside and he’s just poking at your back hole, yeah, that works, too. Those of you who have never been fucked in the ass can’t really understand what it feels like to feel his cock expanding just before he releases… and then hearing him grunting, groaning, cursing, whatever, as he pumps his seed into you, your pleasure being derived by providing him the pleasure of reaming your butt out.
But then there were those moments again, those times when I was on the receiving end of the boner and wishing fervently that I wasn’t, knowing I had the power and ability to stop things dead in their tracks and, a scant, few times, allowing things to continue. In this, you learn something about why women sometimes don’t demand an immediate withdrawal because, damn, it’s easier to just let him finish than to get into a scuffle.
You learn how it feels to be slutty, how to let your horniness guide you into getting all hot and sweaty with another guy, and even tripping a little over the fact that this ain’t a woman. A while ago, I wrote a blog about what it feels like to be at the receiving end of another man’s passion, a lesson bi guys learn, something that gives you more shit in common with women. It’s scary and heady; it feels wrong just as much as it feels right.
My thoughts continued along the lines of lessons learned… and I learned a lot of them and all without the benefit of a more experience bi guy mentoring me in these things. I shrugged because, after all, it is what it is and I often wonder if I could have been a better bisexual, if such a thing is possible, if someone had taught me shit that I didn’t have to do to learn.
I laugh softly to myself, thinking about all the times the chance to get some dick just went over my head, where a guy throwing hints at me that Stevie Wonder could have seen just got so far under my radar the guy practically had to hit me with his dick to get my attention. It makes me feel a little silly and I roll my eyes as I continue to laugh at myself. I think about the times when I’ve gotten dick from unexpected sources, the feeling of surprise and even delight to play with a dick that no other man has played with… and then wondering why the signs being given off are only obvious to me after the fact.
And these are just my random thoughts, a replay of my sexual history, something that’s been years in the making… but can be reviewed in just under five minutes; ah, man, the human mind is a remarkable machine, ain’t it?
I understand what it means to be a bisexual man, to understand that your body doesn’t give a shit how it gets its pleasure and that one’s mind is the only thing standing in the way of orgasmic bliss… or the reason why things didn’t go as expected or planned. I realize that had I not taken this path, there are a lot of things I wouldn’t have learned about life, relationships, love, and sex; I’d be most straight guys, just hearing about this or that but having no actual experience in the things being heard about others.
I laugh when thinking about why some gays say that bisexual men are just confused gay men, that we’re in denial about our true homosexuality… and the fact that I know some guys who actually bought into this. And it’s true: When I have sex with a man, it is homosexual sex, plain and simple… but, sorry gay guys, that’s really as far as a lot of us are willing to take things because, hmm, we do love pussy very much; most of us will pass up dick in favor of pussy, and not all of us are into men to the degree gay men are. It’s not a condemnation of gay men or the sex that they have with each other; it’s just like I said: We might like dick… but we love pussy, too.
Now it’s time for me to get back to work on figuring out level 122 on Candy Crush Saga…