It’s summer, 1970-something, and there are two guys “surrounding” me and not only calling me a cock sucker but, as they openly play with knives they pulled out of their pockets, they announced that despite few things – like, I didn’t know these guys personally even though they wore the colors of a well-known neighborhood gang and the automatic, “I don’t know what you’re talking about but I’m not a cock sucking faggot… or whatever you called me…” that came out once they started making false accusations – and false because I might be a lot of things, but a faggot ain’t one of them – that they were gonna make me suck their dicks… or else.
I’d heard through the grapevine that there were some dudes running around picking on little guys and making them suck dick and, once, bent this one kid over and gave him the business and I guess that, at a mere 4′ 11″, I had ‘victim’ written all over me… except, unlike those other rumored guys, I was trained to defend myself, even against a knife so when I told them they could suck each other’s dicks and, if they were smart, they’d go find someone else to pick on, well, they didn’t like that. After looking at each other – and it was weird to see them thinking the same thing – they attacked, brandished switchblades gleaming in the afternoon sun…
And got their asses kicked. No, it wasn’t a scuffle out of a Bruce Lee movie and I didn’t walk away without some damage – a busted lip, a small cut on my arm, a bloody nose along with one hell of a headache but, as they say, you should see the other guys who suffered more serious damage in the form of arms broken at the elbow, a dislocated knee (or two), one broken nose from a perfect heel-palm strike. A couple of adults came to the rescue, late but appreciated, and not only did those guys limp away howling in pain, but I now had two rather nice switchblades. Police arrived asking questions – officer, it was just a misunderstanding, yes, I’m okay, no, I didn’t know them and they went that way. Maybe the police caught up with them, maybe they didn’t although I’m sure they both wound up at the ER at some point.
But I had experienced an epiphany as I fought to not only preserve my virtue but my life…
There was a time when someone would call me a cock sucker – out of anger or in jest – and, oh, I’d get quite offended and part of the epiphany I had that day included having me wonder why I’d get offended by being called that when the truth was, um, yeah, I really was a cock sucker, that being one of my favorite sexual things to do and second to eating pussy. I knew that what offended me was being called – or accused of being – a homo, a faggot, or a queer because I knew I was none of those things (“Go ask your mom if I’m a faggot – I’m sure she’d disagree…”) but, yeah, they had the cock sucker part right so, yeah, why get offended by that?
As epiphanies go, this one was stunning in that shocked to the core way that, at first, makes you sit with that thousand yard stare look on your face and what makes it “worse” is having found the truth even though you’ve obviously known the truth all along. No, I’m not a homo… but I am a cock sucker; whether or not I was a good one was a matter of opinion, I’d guess – just because you don’t hear a complaint doesn’t mean there wasn’t one but that’s not the point. The point, of course, was starkly and sharply clear: I’m a cock sucker and, for a moment, I wondered how I could be so totally taken aback by a ‘revelation’ I was very much aware of.
Some four decades later (and now, about an hour ago), I’m not sure what made this memory pop into my head but as I recalled that day, I also though about something I’d read in one of my favorite books, something about forgetting what you’ve learned and what you think you know… and finding the truth where it lives. The epiphany experienced that day made me see the truth where it lived as a kind of connection was finally made; uh, duh, if you suck dick and you like sucking dick, doesn’t that make you a cock sucker? Yes, of course it does but wait – there’s more! Let’s go back to the part where you like sucking cock for a moment; if you truly do like sucking cock – and, apparently, you do – does it make any sense to get bent out of shape whenever someone facetiously or even maliciously calls you a cock sucker? Because, um, well, yeah – the shoe fits, doesn’t it?
There are those who want to believe that bisexuals don’t think about whatever it is they do and while for some of us, being bisexual is so second-nature to us that we don’t really (or consciously) think about it, yeah, we do think about it, sometimes in the form of a guilt trip, sometimes as a logic check (and in the form of “Am I doing the right thing for myself?), and sometimes because it’s just really kinda cool to know that the truth is getting some dick or some pussy is not only fun but quite liberating from “normal” standards.
My mind is jogging that forty-year-old memory back and forth as I sit behind the keyboard to start writing this. It wasn’t the first time someone had called me a cock sucking faggot and it wasn’t the first time I’d ever got into a tussle behind those words. Inwardly, I nodded at the truth of this and as I did so, my mind did what I’d call an “in between flashback” to many moments where I was being exactly what I’d be called at times: A cock sucker. I’m writing this, my mind still has its “finger” on the jogging dial and just bouncing around all over the place to pick out moments where my cock sucking moments were glorious and, because it could, pointing out those moments when, um, okay, fuck, that could have been better, huh? The jogging would stop at the moment I found the truth where it lived: I was looking at myself in the bathroom mirror, gingerly dabbing at my busted lip and, even better, thinking that playing trumpet wasn’t gonna happen until it healed and, oh, yeah, you’re not gonna be eating any pussy… or sucking any dick for a few days at least.
All I could do was to stare at my reflection and, honestly, I’m not sure I was really breathing in that moment as I looked into the face of a cock sucker, looking at the busted lip that had, on more occasions that I could face in that moment, surrounded a guy’s cock, lips that would glad assist him in getting hard (if he wasn’t already), lips that, in concert with my tongue, would work to bring him to his release; lips that would be swiped with my tongue to capture any spunk that may have escaped and to savor the rather distinct taste of dick that lingered there well after cocks got put away and business resumed as normal. I was stunned… and, even then, I couldn’t think of a word that would have proved to be a lot more suitable to describe that precise moment. Jeez, I know I’m not a faggot or a homo… but I am a cock sucker… and I don’t know how I really feel about that.
This is gonna take a while to figure out. I recall that, forty-something years ago, I sat on my bed, barely paying attention to my mom lecturing me about fighting even though I had done the right thing by defending myself… and I was barely paying attention to her because, oh, damn, I really am a cock sucker! Not only that but, eh, despite those experiences where I could have – and probably should have – used better judgement, didn’t I really have fun using my mouth to make a guy cum? Well, yeah, dummy! Did you really think you sucked dick because you didn’t have anything better to do? Oh, wait… you have done it because you didn’t have anything better to do – my bad! As a matter of fact, weren’t you and whatshisname hanging out just the other day and he said something like, “What do you wanna do?” and you blurted out, “I feel like sucking some dick!” – and the two of you sucked each other until neither of you could get it up again?
Yeah… that was me. Cock sucker. Me. I’d found where the truth lived… and I was okay with it. Four-plus decades ago, I don’t remember my mom leaving my room, barely remember her doing her nurse thing and making sure I had no serious damages… but I do remember finding a kind of peace with myself because I was, indeed, a sucker of cocks. I liked it – no, that’s not where the truth lives; I loved it, the feel, the taste, and even the sheer “nastiness” of doing something that, reportedly, boys just didn’t do to other boys and doing something everyone considered to be a girl’s thing to do.
Not homosexual… but bisexual. The epiphany faded into the background, its job done; I’d found where the truth lived and now there was some things I needed to do. One was to not ever get bent out of shape when someone called me a cock sucker but, yeah, since you kinda don’t want everyone knowing you’re a cock sucker (and a fairly decent one, thank you very much), ya might want to put up a protest or two, you know, because you’re expected to reject such a ridiculous, unmanly notion. Oddly enough, the second thing I somehow really needed to do was to go check out one of my partners… and suck his dick until he cried for his mamma and Jesus to save him, make him bust a nut… then start all over again. That’s exactly what I did – well, once my busted lip healed up, that is.
Oh, my. I met up with a guy, told him point-blank that I was there to suck his dick – he was all for that but I knew he would be – and I fell to the task with what I could only call a renewed purpose and a purpose he didn’t mind… the first time… and I knew he was questioning my sanity and what had gotten into me the second and third time I emptied his balls and, for a moment, even I wondered what the fuck was going on until I realized – and you can call it a mini-epiphany if you want to – that I was reaffirming the fact and even moving in with the truth where it lived because I am, indeed, a cock sucker. I’d been doing it for so long but now I was owning it, albeit at my friend’s expense that day.
Cock sucker. Yep, me. Nothing to be upset about, no reason to be fighting with someone just because they uttered a truth that you’ve now, really and truly, accepted. You learn things and there are things that you know… and there comes a time when you have to forget those thing for a moment and find the truth where it lives and see it for what it really is…