Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: You Get To Learn…

31 Oct

You’ve seen me write that when you’re a bi guy and have gotten into the sex, you get to learn a lot of the things that women wind up learning and that some of those lessons aren’t what I’d call pretty.  You learn what it’s like to be treated as a piece of ass, what it’s like to have another man impose his lust upon you and without any consideration for your feelings, wants, desires, etc., along with how, ah, bothersome it is to have some dude trying to force his dick down your throat and, of course, having to listen to all the bullshit a dude will say in order for you to agree to have sex with him.

You even get to learn what it feels like to have some guy constantly after you and doing his level best to get you to have sex with him and, usually, when having sex isn’t even on your mind, let alone being the last thing.  I was thinking about this and my mind flashed back to a time when we’d have a new guy join the “gang” and, after his, er, indoctrination and initiation, he’d find himself on the “crazy wagon” and literally begging for some dick at every turn.  At first, it was always kinda funny but after a while, it would just stop being funny and start being a problem.  With this one new guy, it wasn’t that no one liked him because if that were the case, he wouldn’t have been hanging out with us to begin with; likewise, it wasn’t that he wasn’t down with doing it with the other guys because, again, if he wasn’t, hanging out with us just wasn’t gonna happen.  What it was a matter of was simply he got hooked on the sex and, yeah, all of us had by this time forgotten how we behaved after getting that first taste of guy-sex so whenever we’d see him coming, yikes, it was time to haul ass because you just knew that if you didn’t manage to escape, he was going to be begging you unmercifully to do it to him.

He was so bad that no one wanted to spend the night with him and if you didn’t have a choice in the matter – and, sometimes, you didn’t because of your parents having shit to do – you’d wind up learning that it was easier to just go ahead and do it to him than it was to beat him up for being so annoying.  See, I thought I was bad when I was going through my crazy period because I’d do it pretty much anyone who’d ask but, if I was the one doing the asking and they said that they didn’t want to, it was no big deal… but this guy?  He just wouldn’t take no for an answer; you could point out to him that if we did it, we might get caught and no one ever wanted to get caught like that; you could tell him that you just didn’t feel like it – and, sometimes, you really didn’t for some reason – and, jeez, he would beg and plead and whine and cry until you just caved in and went someplace to do it to him… and then hope and pray that he wouldn’t want to do it again… and he almost always did.

He particularly liked doing it with those few of us who were busting nuts; while he was happy to let the guys who weren’t shooting “the baby making stuff” do it to him because they could just keep going for the longest time, he was at his happiest when he was getting a load of stuff shot into him somewhere – his mouth, his ass, or even all over him – it just didn’t matter.  At first, when he’d show up, boy, the excitement level would ramp up to ridiculous levels because we knew he’d want us to pull a train on him repeatedly and that he was “a natural” when it came to sucking dicks as well as being that guy whose ass felt better to fuck than a lot of the girls’ pussies did…

But doing it to him got old pretty quick because he always wanted somebody to do it to him; because I was one of those “early nut-busters,” damn, he’d often follow me around for hours and begging for it so much that, once, I actually punched him in the nose, thinking that it would get him to leave me alone… which didn’t work one bit and, yeah, I’d wind up doing it to him anyway.  I really didn’t want to be bothered – and it never mattered why I didn’t – but I’d get naked with him and be all ticked off and thinking that this just wasn’t going to be any fun until, of course, he started sucking my dick and, well, what do you know?  All of a sudden, doing it to him became less of a bad idea and more so when he’d suck me until I shot all of my stuff in his mouth… and then I’d feel bad about being “mean” to him because I’d look at him licking his lips and see the sheer joy on his face and in his eyes; I mean, how can you see someone’s delight in this and continue to be pissed off with them because they got you to do something that, at first, you really didn’t want to do?  Also, how could you be mad with them when they’re thanking you profusely for doing it to them?

Of course, I eventually learned that if I didn’t want to do it, I wasn’t going to and ya couldn’t make me do it… but I hadn’t learned that one yet.

Moments later – and thanks to that boyish lack of a refraction period, I’d be hard again and sticking my dick into his very nice ass and, yeah, I’d be feeling bad about it feeling good to fuck him; I’d feel bad and good to hear him telling me how good it was making him feel and how much he liked doing it with me; I’d feel bad – and good – when I’d squirt my stuff into his butt, hear him giggling out of sheer happiness and then hear him ask me to stay right there so he could feel me get hard in his butt; I would, in those times, hate myself because I’d be lying on top of him and he’s under me wriggling his butt against me and, damn, it would feel so good!  I’d get hard again and wind up creaming his butt again and, oh, how he loved every moment of it and, honestly, I did as well until I remembered that I hadn’t wanted to do it to him to begin with.  If we didn’t do it a third time – and, um, yeah, sometimes we did – we’d go our separate ways and I’d feel like a total asshole about it even though, yup, doing it to him felt damned good.  I’d head home and would be talking to myself and promising that this was gonna be the last time I would do it to him when I didn’t want to do it in the first place; I’d tell myself that I would run very fast if I saw him coming down the street, that I was going to never spend the night with him even if my parents arranged it… nope, I wasn’t even gonna do it to him when the gang was all together and we were all doing it to each other like crazy.

And, um, I was just unable to keep any of those promises.  This guy really did get on my nerves about doing it to him and I’d always wind up being totally pissed off with myself because I would almost always wind up doing it to him despite any lack of desire on my part.  Now, I have to say at this point that it was rare that I didn’t want to do it and that most of the time, hell, yeah, I didn’t mind doing it to him except, of course, whenever I didn’t feel like being bothered.  Doing it to him taught me some hard lessons about myself and, yeah, they were ugly as the original sin; I eventually realized that I had to be of one mind about doing it to him specifically:  Either I was going to do it because I really did like doing it to him, or I was going to learn how to tell him no and not do it to him for any reason.  Using the prevailing “kid logic,” it just didn’t feel right for me to be pissed off with him because he was begging me to do it to him and then not be pissed off while doing it to him.  Yeah, eventually, I would learn – and was able to enforce – “no means no!” – but the “kid logic” strongly suggested that if I really did like doing it to him – and doing it with guys period – then I shouldn’t be surprised or even dismayed whenever he wanted me to do it to him.

I learned what a lot of girls were learning:  How much of a pain in the ass it can be to have someone running you down to have sex with you.  Yes, it is damned annoying… but it’s also a very flattering ego boost at the same time.  For me, it was a lesson in, “That’s what you get for being good at what you do…” and even the good and bad things that comes with being “sexually popular.”  This guy wasn’t the only guy who really liked doing it with me – he was just the one who would get on my last good nerve because whenever he saw me, he always wanted me to do it to him.  I was getting a lesson in what happens when you leave such a great impression on someone and, in the case with him, simply because I was (at the time) only one of three guys who were shooting sperm.  The other two guys had the same “problem” with him that I did and, yeah, just like me, they’d get worn down and, even though they didn’t feel like doing it to him, wind up doing it to him anyway… and not because it was good doing it to him:  It was to get him to shut up and stopped begging for our dicks.

If anything, all of this taught me not to beg anyone for sex; if they said no, that’s the end of the discussion although, as it goes, when it came to girls, you always gave them a chance to change their minds but if they didn’t, just walk away and leave it alone.

Man, some of the things being bisexual can teach you about life can be so profound…

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Posted by on 31 October 2015 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts


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