Author Archives: kdaddy23

About kdaddy23

Not really sure what to say; there's a lot about me that can be said but the basic thing is that I'm just a guy with a lot of things on my mind that I need to get said. I have to add that if you're not old enough to deal with adult issues or you find them offensive, you might want to stay out of my head...

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: Why Bother?

Quite a few years ago, I was having an interesting discussion with a female friend about my being bisexual and she asked, “Why bother with that?  Aren’t women enough for you?”

I frowned at her question, having heard the underlying admonishment:  She thought I was being greedy, that old-assed stereotypical assumption that, in my mind, never made a lot of sense since I’ve always been sure that I’m not the only person interested in getting all the sex that I can – and that included the woman I was talking to, someone who was very well-known for her, ah, voracious appetites.

But I laughed and said, “While I don’t believe there’s such a thing as too much pussy, there’s more to be had in the sexual world; what’s wrong with feasting at the table?”

It was her turn to frown and I resisted the urge to laugh at her consternation; over the years, I’d gotten used to having conversations like this with women in particular and now found it amusing that they couldn’t see the connection between how I liked getting my rocks off and how they were doing it.

“It doesn’t make sense to me,” she finally said.  “If you needed to get laid that bad, all you have to do is ask me and I’d break you off some…”

“I appreciate the offer but it’s not about needing badly to get laid,” I said – after I stopped laughing.  “You think that what I like to do is one of those situations where I’m desperate for sex and this is the only alternative… but you’d be quite wrong; I simply like dick.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” she said again.  “If you’re getting punany, why do you need dick?”

Okay, here we go…

“Why do you need it?” I asked.  “Shit, woman, you get laid more than I do!  So why do you need so much dick?”

“That shit is off the hook!” she exclaimed, smiling salaciously.  “Shit, man, you don’t know…”

She stopped in mid-stride, suddenly understanding that I did, in fact, know – and the laughter was starting to build again.

“Oh, snap,” she said, shaking her head.

“Yeah, you get it now, don’t you?” I asked – after biting my lip for a moment.  “See, the reason why I bother – as you put it – is because I understand some of the same shit you do.  You’re always bragging about how you sucked some dude’s dick and had him crying for his mama… and I know exactly what you mean because I’ve had a few dudes calling for someone to help them that won’t be able to save their asses.  I know that this shit is fun… just like you do.”

“I get that now,” she said, nodding.  “You just don’t look like the type!”

Here we go again…

“What does the type look like?  You don’t look like the type of girl who spends six out of seven days fucking four or five times a day!” I pointed out, hitting her with facts she had previously revealed to me – and facts that ensured that I wouldn’t ever be sticking my dick in her even though she was damned delicious.

“That’s cold, dude,” she said, trying not to smile.

“I’m not gay by any means,” I continued.  “I found out a long time ago  that I didn’t have to be gay to like dick; hell, I wouldn’t want to be gay!”

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because being gay is just as limiting as being straight – not enough diversity just sticking with men or women only to make me happy,” I said.

“So what you saying?  I’m missing out on some shit by being strickly dickly?” she asked, giving me one of those looks that only women can pull off successfully.

“I’m not saying anything although if the shoe fits, either wear it or let your feet hurt,” I said.

“I couldn’t do that shit,” she said.

“How do you know you can’t?” I  asked – oh, was I ever gonna fuck with her now!  “You ever try to do it?”

“No!” she practically shouted.

“Then how do you know you couldn’t do it… or like it?” I pressed.

“Man, I’ve heard…” she began but I cut her off quickly.

“See, that’s what wrong with some people; you hear some shit from other people – and it’s usually some fucked up shit – and then you just assume that just because they had a fucked up experience doing it, you’re gonna have one as well,” I said.

“I know I can’t play with no pussy!” she said, getting predictably louder.

“You play with your own pussy, don’t you?” I asked slyly.

“That’s different!” she countered, the words exploding from her mouth and now the people in the area we were sitting in were looking in our direction.

“Well, I figure that if you can play with your own shit, it’s not that big of a reach to play with another woman’s stuff… unless the real reason is that you’re afraid,” I said.

“I ain’t afraid of shit,” she said, keeping her voice down.

“That’s a lie – you’re obviously afraid of pussy,” I said while failing to suppress a laugh.

“You’re fucking with me,” she said, trying to sound pissed off.

“Yeah, a little,” I admitted.  “But the point remains valid – you probably wouldn’t do it because you’re afraid people will start thinking that you’re a lesbian, huh?”

Her silence told me that I had hit the nail on the proverbial head… and I kept right on fucking with her… because I could and I liked pushing her buttons.

“I remember you told me a couple of weeks ago that you were watching some porn flick and there were two women – how did you put it? – munching on some carpet and you said that, at first, you thought that shit was nasty… but then you started to think that it was pretty hot,” I said.  “Were you telling the truth about that?”

“I can’t stand you sometimes,” she said.

“But you did say that,” I said, keeping the pressure on her.

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?  Look, if you thought it was hot – and I agree that it is – then what’s the problem?  What, you ashamed that watching two women go down on each other turned you on?”

Another one of those nail-hitting silences ensued, this one lasting a whole five minutes.  I sat there picking at my now-cold French fries and watched her think, marveling at how you can look at some people and pretty much know what’s going on inside their skull and seeing them go through their thought progressions.

“So, um, you saying that if it turns me on, I should try it?” she asked.

“Do you really want to?” I asked.  “You don’t have to if you really can’t… but for the purposes of this conversation, if you did try it, maybe you’d better understand why I am the way I am, ya know?”

Two days later, she invited me to have lunch with her again.  As we settled down to start grubbing, she said, “I did it…” and so quietly that I wasn’t sure I heard  her.

“Did what?” I asked – and because I really didn’t know what she was talking about.

“Got with a woman,” she said, her voice so low I had to strain to hear her over the background noise.

“Oh!  So, how was it?” I asked and like I was asking her about the weather or something.

“Now I know why you bother,” she said, her head down like she was talking to her burger instead of me.  “I fucking hate you sometimes, you know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I know you do,” I agreed, not taking any offense at all.  “So, how was it?  Seriously now.”

“Man, damn, that shit was good,” she said.  “I ain’t never got off like that before!  I gotta admit that it was so good, not only did she spend the night with me but that’s all we did all night… and the most of the next day.”

Ah!  That would explain why I hadn’t seen her at work, then.

“Oh, okay,” I said  nonchalantly.  “So… now you know like I know, don’t you?”

“I fucking hate your ass!  You’re always making me do shit I wasn’t even thinking about doing!” she said, reaching across the table and poking me in the chest with her finger.

“I didn’t make you do a damned thing!” I said laughing.  “All I did was ask you a question!  Is it my fault that you decided to go looking for the answer?”

“Yeah it is!” she said, finally letting her smile light up the joint.  “You always putting these ideas in my head!”

“I’m not gonna apologize but I figure that if you wanted to know why I do the things  I do, well, maybe you should do them yourself and find out – that kinda makes sense, wouldn’t you agree?”  I asked, setting my humor aside.

“I fucking hate your smart ass…” she said.  “Can I tell you something?”

“You know you can tell me anything – you usually do,” I said.

“When she kissed me, um, shit, I had an orgasm,” she said meekly.

“Nothing wrong with that,” I said.

“Then, when we got naked, she started sucking on my titties and it happened again,” she said.  “No dude ever made me do that shit fucking with my nipples!  But when she went down on me, damn, oh, damn…”

“It’s okay,” I said, seeing that she was getting flustered.

“I went down on her and I couldn’t believe that I was doing it…: she said quietly.  “I was scared like a motherfucker… but I wasn’t scared – does that make sense?”

“It makes sense,” I said with equal quietness.

“She tasted so good… I couldn’t stop licking her pussy…, oh, fuck me…” she said, suddenly shuddering.

Did she just have an orgasm?  Holy shit, I think she did!

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked.

“I just nutted in my drawers,” she said.  “I fucking hate your ass!”

She got up and went to the ladies room… and it was all I could do not to start laughing even though this was a really serious situation for her.  I honestly never gave any thought to her actually wanting to find out what it was like even though I had meant everything I had said to her.  Over the years, I’d be hit with questions like the ones she asked, had to listen to the stereotypical claptrap that never seemed to go away and it made me adopt the position that if you really wanna know why I like pussy and dick, why don’t you give a try and find out for yourself?

She returned to the table and stood next to me for a moment, tapping me on the shoulder and said, “Here, take this.”

I held out my hand and she dropped a rather nice pair of panties in my hand, all scrunched up in a ball but very recognizable.

“Oh, no you didn’t,” I said, slipping the panties into my jacket pocket.  “What the fuck am I supposed to do with these?”

“I don’t give a fuck what you do with them,” she said, plopping her butt down in the booth.  “It’s a good thing I keep a pair in my desk!  Oh, did I mention that you can be a real bastard?”

“You usually do mention that and I keep telling you that my parents were married when I was born,” I replied and, no, this time, I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.  “Shit, you wanna blame me because you had a pleasant memory – what kind of shit is that?  How the fuck am I gonna explain to my wife why I have your panties in my pocket?”

“That’s your problem,” she said with a bit of disdain.  “That’s the price you pay for making me remember that shit!”

“Oh, like it’s my fault you tried it and  liked it?”  Man, this was getting kinda funny because I knew she was just embarrassed by what happened.

“Yeah!  It is your fault, damn it!”

“Okay, well, good thing I’m used to getting blamed for shit,” I said, picking up my burger and taking a big bite out of it before it got too cold.

We were silent for a few moments, me eating my lunch, her deep in thought.

“So now what?” I asked after polishing off the remainder of my milkshake.

“I’m supposed to spend the weekend with her,” she said after a moment.  “She told me not to bother bringing any clothes because I wasn’t gonna be needing them until I went home.”

“Wow, that sounds like some serious shit,” I said.  “Are you gonna go?”

“Would you go?” she asked – but I knew the question was rhetorical, just like I already knew that she was going to go no matter what I said.

“Of course I would,” I said truthfully.  “There’s no shame in it at all.”

“I still hate you, you know,” she said, grabbing the check that the waitress had discretely placed on the table.

“I got it,” I said, reaching for the check.

“No, this is my treat – you can pay the next time,” she said.

From what I heard, going down the road and according to the rumor mill, my friend and this mysterious girl were becoming an item.  Yep, she was still on her serious dick diet but had apparently added pussy to the menu.  Sometimes, it’s good to ask questions about things you don’t understand but as in the case of my friend, sometimes, if you really wanna know, you just have to find out for yourself.  I really hadn’t expected her to go and do it and I figured that the only reason why she did was because she had some latent desires she had been keeping secret – and understandably so, I might add.

People attach so much shame to being bisexual, calling us greedy and shit like that and all because we like more sexual diversity than most people and like one of our purposes in life isn’t to have all the enjoyable sex we can have.  I still get a little miffed today to hear people calling bisexuals greedy and like we’re the only ones who like getting laid a lot and more so when I knew other people who, like my lady friend, spent the majority of their time fucking like it was gonna be declared illegal any moment now.  But I know that the greedy sentiment exists because you’re supposed to pick a side – straight or gay – and stay there; it’s okay for someone who has picked a  side to then chase down all the sex they can catch… but if that’s okay, then why isn’t it  okay for a bisexual to have the same pursuits?

I’ll leave you to ponder this question…

Leave a comment

Posted by on 24 November 2015 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts


Tags: , , , ,

What Do You Think About This?

 Got this from a Facebook friend and comments say this is sick – what do you think, readers?  Do the incest laws apply here?  For the record, my first thought was, “Well, this is different…!”


Posted by on 23 November 2015 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts


Tags: ,

Being In Love

It’s a goal in life that a lot of us have and we go through a lot of things, do a lot of searching, and go through a lot of shit to find that one person we can fall in love with and with the expectation that they’re gonna love us as much as we love them – and love is the way we want to be loved.

This is all well and good.  Sometimes we confuse infatuation with love; we confuse sex with love; we think that we’ve found love (or it has found us) but what we find that we really found the wrong person or because we are so focused on finding love that we are easily fooled into believing that we finally found it.

What we find, at some point, is that we experience love many times while searching for The One; we learn from it, suffer both happiness and pain along the way but we doggedly keep searching for that one person that won’t be our alpha… but they’ll be our omega, the last and only person that we’ll ever love.

For some, this actually happens and somewhat easily but for others, well, let’s say that once they’ve fallen in love and are happy, they believe that it’s not possible for them to have love pay them another visit… and find themselves proven wrong… and now there’s a problem that many find hard to solve.

I’ve often wondered why it is that someone will fall in love for that “last” time and never consider that love can find them again.  After all, they’ve gone through a few instances of love trying to get to The One and as if they’re now immune against love touching them again, as if the person they’re now in love with is an immutable shield that will always protect and insulate them.

Which probably explains how totally dumbstruck they get when they find out differently, that you cannot escape love when it has run them down again… but they try, shoving monogamy and morality before them like a cross before the vampire and thinking that love will shy away from monogamy’s alleged power and ability to shield and protect, believing and even hoping that this social construct will be proof against one of the most powerful emotions we can experience.

Many are successful, in a sense; they don’t fall fully into love’s heady embrace… but they will always feel the effect or having been brushed by love.  Some cherish that touch while others fear it; they believe that love only happens once and to feel it again will destroy them, that love’s power will once again unlock things within them that they believed to be safely locked away behind monogam’s protective wall.

And then they find out that things don’t work the way they thought they did, that pretty much all they were taught – all the assumptions they made based on those teachings and their own experiences – is, at the least, inaccurate and, at the worst, very much wrong.

They say love is eternal, that it’s not easily banished, deflected, avoided  or ignored.  We do, in fact, have this proven to us and sometimes rather painfully when we thought we found love but it wasn’t the love we were looking for so we keep looking and hoping it will find us:  Hope keeps us looking for that which isn’t easy to find or to hold onto… but we know it’s out there and we are prepared and committed to spending our entire lives to wrap ourselves in love’s embrace for the one, last and final time.

And when we do, we think and believe that were safe and unable to love anyone else… but then we find that the love we have, as warm, comfortable and wonderful as it is, isn’t enough; we sense that our need and capacity for love is actually greater than we thought except, Houston, we have a problem:  The rules that govern our lives and behaviors in these things dictate that we should only love one person at a time and that even feeling love – or knowing that they are loved by another – is the height of impropriety and a moral taboo.

Some of us questions the mandate; we correctly guess that if we have been in love at times before we found our omega – and we still carry those past loves within us, then it is, indeed, quite possible that we can handle much more love than we’re told we should deal with.  Some of us accept this… but most cannot because they believe there can be only one true love even though that which they’re experiencing severely challenges their beliefs and exposes the lie of once you have love, you can’t have any more love or can’t receive it from, ah, other sources.

Thus, we think we know love, that we understand all there is to love and being loved, on,y to find that our understanding, such as it is, is sorely limited and lacking.  We underestimate love’s reach and power; we seek to keep it at arm’s length with social constructs that, in fact, have little power over love’s greater power.

And I’ve wondered why we do this, why we will go out of our way to find love… then go further out of our way to avoid it once we believe we have found it and as if we have no further use for love since we “apparently” have it already.  I’ve wondered why, when we experience another brush with love’s touch, we act as if it didn’t happen, that it’s not supposed to happen, and instead of basking in that additional touch, we become distraught and fight against it with all we can bring to bear.

And I’ve felt that we’ve all been taught that love is about doing this, that, or the other and that if you love – and even if you dare to love, something must be done about it; there are those who are afraid to love (or have been made to fear love) so, yes, the thing they are made to do when love touches their hearts is to fight it, to deny it, to resist it and to continue to fear it and even deem it to be useless.

All love wants anyone to do is accept it, to take it within themselves and feel good about and with it and, yes, even if they’re already in love and being love because we are told that love knows no bounds… yet, we act as if there is a limit to love, don’t we, that we should only go so far and never beyond that point.

Do you ever question this?  Do you ever wonder if there’s more to this than you know?  Do you think about why we don’t question these things or why we just accept that which we’ve been told or otherwise made to believe?

Perhaps you should.  I did; many people have and we’ve seen the lie we all have been told about what love is and what it’s supposed to do and the alleged singular way it’s supposed to work.  It is not about morals, this thing I’ve written today; it is really about one’s ability to love and understanding one’s capacity to love, even when already in love and that despite we have been told and what we believe, we are capable of so much more.

Do you know this?  Can you feel this?  Have you felt this?  And, most of all, do you believe this?

Leave a comment

Posted by on 23 November 2015 in Life, Living and Loving


Tags: ,

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: It’s Still Hanging Around! – A Top Searches Rant

I had just finished putting an aborted blog in the trash – it made more sense in my head than it did when I started writing it – and when I returned to my Dashboard, my old friend (or nemesis) intercrural sex was sitting there waiting for me and in the form of, “best way to perform intercrural sex” and I thought, “Is this for real?” – but then I thought that maybe whoever initiated the search really doesn’t know, although I also wondered why they just didn’t Google it, just as I did a moment ago to find out what the female version of this is called and because, um, I kinda forgot it… sorta.  By the way, if you didn’t know what the girl version is called, it’s tribadism (or tribbing, per the Urban Dictionary), which is taken from the Greek word “tribein” (to rub)  or frottage.


Those of you who have followed this particular rant already know the answer to this but for two guys to have intercrural sex, it’s usually done by one guy sticking his boner either between another man’s thighs or in his butt crack but without any attempts to penetrate him.  It can be done in the “missionary” position; it can be done with either guy on the top or bottom; from the back while lying on their sides and face-to-face while on their sides.  I’m sure that someone has found a more, ah, creative way for two guys to do this and I have heard of guys doing this standing up – but these are what I believe to be the more common ways to do this… and the best way is usually whatever way works for you and delivers the desired results.  I would, in either way, suggest that a lubricant be used to avoid friction burns, especially if it’s being done between a guy’s thighs – that shit doesn’t feel good either way (and you know that I know this, right?).

For those who might be wondering why this would even be done, it’s when “Gene” wants to get his rocks off with “Glen” but one (or both) men don’t want any anal penetration to take place.  It’s like dry humping without the dryness, if you will and, generally, ain’t done while fully clothed unless, of course, one is fond up messing up their clothes… and I’ve heard that some guys don’t mind the messy garments as long as they can grind their crotch against another man’s crotch… but that’s something else.

I can remember a whole lot of times when the action has gotten hot and heavy with a guy and we’ve been sucking each other as if our lives depended on it but, damn, while it feels good, it doesn’t feel good enough to make us cum and while we could masturbate each other to a messy finish, um, doing some  fucking would fit the bill perfectly, well, until the other guy says that he wants to fuck… but don’t stick it in (or even try to stick it in) and, yep, I’ve sometimes been the guy who doesn’t want to be bothered with having a hard dick sticking out of my ass… but there is an alternative: It’s Intercrural Time!

My “best” ways for doing it is me on top, him on his belly and getting in between his thighs or, better, in his crack – or spooning while doing it.  When having it done to me, I find I prefer the ways that I’d do it – me on my belly or being spooned.  One guy I talked to about this years ago had asked why do it this way if there’s no penetration involved… and it’s not simple to explain.  Being penetrated (or doing the penetration) makes sense… if it can be accomplished and that’s not always as simple as porn displays – lots of reason why ya just can’t get it in.  Still, it’s the “going through the motions” that makes it feel good; if you’re the one playing in the spaces, you’re “fucking,” in close contact with the other guy and it just feels good; when you’re being done, feeling the other guy’s body against you or his weight on you and feeling his cock moving around in whatever space is being occupied, equally feels good.

I don’t know about other guys who have done this but I’ve noticed that in the times I’ve done it or have been done, I’ve gone from not wanting to stick it in (or having it stuck in me) to the other guy (or myself) saying, “Fuck this shit – put that motherfucker in me!”  But, as I’ve said, that’s sometimes easier said than done… but I’ve found that I best enjoy intercrural sex when my dick is pressing up against the other guy’s hole and his is probing mine.  Yeah, sometimes, it can be this way and the copious amounts of seminal fluid – aka precum – can make things slick enough that the head can begin to slip in a little – and that’s acceptable as long as there’s no attempt to insert more dick without the appropriate permission.

So when penetration isn’t desire or doable, intercrural is the thing to do and the best way is, again, whatever way works for you so you – and, hopefully, your partner – can bust a heavenly nut.  Additionally – and I know it’s probably just my preference – but I like it when the thrusting is done urgently but gently – remember the friction burns I mentioned?  I’ve had guys try to pound me in this fashion and it just doesn’t feel good to me and, gulp, the lack of adequate lubrication has done a number on me in places I’d rather not have friction burns and, hell, no – having my cock friction burned sure as shit ain’t my idea of fun.  You need a lubricant that will negate the friction, like baby oil even though if you’re fucking against the guy’s hole, yeah, ya just might get it in him easily enough but then it’s a matter of body control if getting it in is out of the question for either guy.

Leave a comment

Posted by on 21 November 2015 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts


Tags: , , , , ,

How Do You Feel?

Many years ago now, I learned some important lessons about something I had thought I knew already and they were taught to me when I fell deeply in love with someone I had “no business” falling in love with:  The wife of a friend and co-worker.  While I had spent a lot of time talking to her on the phone, the day I actually met her, the chemistry between us hit me so hard that I almost passed out – and that was before I shook her hand in greeting and when we touched, I was grateful that I didn’t have far to go to sit back down because my legs wouldn’t support me.

For a period of time after that fateful introduction, we talked about the way we felt, acknowledging the powerful and dangerous chemistry between us; we even talked about where we were being led and we desperately fought against doing something about the way we felt, our logic impeccably laid out as to why we dare not do what we both knew had to be done.  It wasn’t right; it was so totally immoral and dangerous to us both because just being in love with each other threatened our very lives and our respective families.

As I’ve written hundreds of times now, this woman was the one who taught me that you can’t do anything about the way you feel; you can only do something about how you may act on your feelings.  She was the one who taught me that just because you loved someone, that didn’t mean you had to do anything about it other than accept that this is how you feel.  I thought I knew about being in love, thought I understood all the aspects of it but this, dear God, this blindsided me, exposed an ignorance I hadn’t been aware of because I was, hands down, in love with this woman and every fiber of my being wanted to do everything I could about it… and I knew damned well that I shouldn’t.  She knew it, too; she had accepted all of this better than I had but, admittedly, felt the same thing I did, that something had to be done about this… and being the intelligent and perceptive people we both were, we knew that we would not be able to avoid the inevitable.

God knows we tried and it seemed that the more we tried, the stronger the pull became; it opened up things for the two of us that neither thought was even possible, things that only existed in cheesy romance novels, or only in our dreams.  Every moment that passed kept pushing us forward even when we logically agreed that if we stopped talking to each other, the compelling force drawing us together would go away and, in time, be forgotten… but we couldn’t even do that, not when I would be making a business call and when the phone was answered on the other end, I discovered that I had dialed her number instead… even when I was looking at the phone’s keypad when making the call.

Holy mother of Christ… what was going on here?  Just the same, the more we talked, the more we shared with each other, the stronger our love became and we just accepted it – it is what it is and maybe, just maybe, people weren’t meant to be limited to loving just one person because I loved my wife just as she loved her husband… but we also loved each other and it was insane… but it felt right even in its moral wrongness.  The pressure to do something about our feelings seemed to subside and we both thought that we had succeed in heading off the inevitable, that we were now in a safe place with each other.

And we were wrong.  We were sitting in her kitchen, drinking coffee, and just talking when the pressure returned full force; I felt it at the same time she did and we were both stunned by it because, foolishly, we thought it had gone away when, in fact, all we had subconsciously done was accept that something was going to happen and when she asked, “Are we gonna do this or what?” for a split second, I wanted to say no – I had to say no – and the truth was that I was still screaming at myself to say no as we kissed for the first time… and that sealed our fates. She took me by the hand, her intention to lead me upstairs to the comfort of the bed in her spare room… and we didn’t make it, losing our clothes before reaching the stairs… and we feasted on each other right there on the steps, on the landing, in the hallway, on that bedroom floor and it was incredible; it was powerful and all-consuming… and we just couldn’t stop.

If that first kiss sealed our fates, the moment I entered her did much more than that; it marked and bonded us for life.  We made love for hours and as if we had never had sex before, driven by both lust and love.  I kept taking her and taking her and in every way I knew how and the more I gave, the more she wanted, the more she needed.  Our very souls had joined together and we were so lost in each other that reason and common sense had no meaning; the sheer wrongness of what we were doing spurred us on further, pushing us beyond anything we had previously experienced until she could take no more… but I still had much more to give and that, all by itself, shocked and amazed me.  She was more than spent and sated… which didn’t stop me from taking her one last time as we showered because I just couldn’t not take her again.

“I hate you.”

Her words crushed me; how could she hate me after what we’d just spent the whole afternoon doing?  But she explained by saying that she hated how I made her feel and not for what we had done and in all its terrible wrongness, it all felt right.  We reveled in our love, astonished each other in the way we’d make love for hours on end and we both thought that we had gone as far as we could in this until the love we felt reared up and had us thinking about leaving our spouses and making a life together… and we learned that if we did that, it would be the biggest mistake ever made in our lives.  We kinda came to our senses after facing the pure, raw power of love and how it can remove rational thought, how it could crush intelligence and logic, how it could utterly obliterate common sense.  The love was still very much there and we knew that no matter what happened, it would always be there.  The lust was there, unabated and unfettered and we basked in it at every opportunity.

At one point, we “broke up” because it had to be done; the danger of our love had taken us from running away together to wanting to make a child of our own… and the only thing that stopped that from happening was her joking about not being able to explain to her husband why “their” baby was born with a permanent tan… so we had to break it off.  The breakup lasted all of a month and it was painful… but it made sense.  She accidentally called me one day and the sound of her voice made all my feelings for her stand up (as well as something else); she apologized for the mistake and we laughed about it until she said, “I need you.  Now.  Come to me…”  I should have stayed right where I was; I should have let the distance between us act as a shield to protect us both… and I was powerless to do so.  I came to her… and took her over and over as if that month we spent apart never happened but with one very notable difference:  We were now under control and immune to what love’s power was pushing us to do.

Now, there may be some of you who are reading this and thinking, “How could you do such a thing?  How could you work with her husband – your friend – every day and not feel the guilt and shame of what you two had done?”  Actually, it was easier than you may want to believe.  I admired him and, as odd as it sounds, respected him more than I had before.  Yes, I was well aware of the fact that if he ever found out, he would strike out at me in some way and I was prepared for that… but I didn’t hate or despise him in any way.  Yeah, it was like that and we did our male bonding thing rather well and more so because he and I had something very much in common:  We both loved his wife with all our heart and soul.

We “broke up” for the final time and, again, because we knew it had to happen and the necessity of it all was painful for us to accept… but we accepted it… and we have never stopped loving each other even though we’ve not seen each other since the very last time we made love one stormy, snowy night and, romantically so, by the fireplace.  There was, in fact, one last thing that had to be done, something I believe I innately knew but hadn’t actually thought about until she told me what that thing was as we undressed each other.  You see, during all the times we made love, I had cum in her mouth; I had cum in her ass and had cum all over her in various places… but I had never cum inside her and, yes, I did her raw because she wouldn’t have it any other way.  She said to me, “Just once, I want to feel you cum inside of me and I don’t care what happens when you do.”

Despite my reminding her of the danger of this, I knew this would be the last thing we’d ever do, one final piece of an incredibly complex puzzle.  I spent the next couple of hours filling her with my seed, all caution set aside as we were scorched by our love, the heat of our passion, and the fireplace.  The first time I spilled inside of her, she said, “Oh, my God… it’s so wonderful… I can feel it… I can feel you… give me more, please give me more…” and I cried openly and shamelessly and did as she bade – nay, as our love for each other demanded.

And nothing happened.  The last time I talked to her after that fateful night, it was her telling me that she wasn’t pregnant but that she was both relieved and unhappy that she hadn’t been impregnated by me… and I felt the exact same way.  It would be a whole decade, maybe a little more than that, before we found each other again and confirmed that our love for each other was still very much in place.  Indeed, I was a little shocked when she told me that she had told her husband that she was very much in love with me and that I was in love with her – of course, she didn’t tell him all we had done.  She shocked me even more by telling me that he said that he knew we were in love from the beginning… and that he was okay with it and, nope, it didn’t hurt their love and marriage one damned bit.

Holy shit…

Now… I told you this to tell you something else that is oh, so very important.  It is, in fact, okay to love someone because, truly, you cannot do anything about the way you feel.  You do not have to do one damned thing about those feelings; you don’t even have to let the other person know if you don’t want to or can’t tell them.  All you have to do is accept that this is how you feel, that there’s just something about them that compels you to love them.  Oh, yes, it is difficult to fight the urge to act on your feelings, as you’ve just read… but, no, all that love really requires is that you accept it as-is and for what it is.  Actions, like making love or returning those feelings, isn’t a necessity and the hardest lesson I learned about being in love is that there are times when doing nothing is the right thing to do – just accept your feelings and, indeed, bask in the headiness of it all because, after all, everything you’ve ever learned about love says that it’s impossible to be in love with someone and still very much love someone else.

What you’ve learned – what I had learned prior to this – is 100% wrong… because it is very damned possible to be in love like this, whether you risk doing anything about it or not.  We all are made to believe that such things can only cause pain and irreparable damage to existing relationships… but that, like many other things about this, isn’t the whole truth because it’s improbable that we could be the only people to have experienced this and caused no damage of any kind.  Yes, the monogamy purists are apoplectic at this point, ranting about the betrayal of our vows and, to that end, they’d be right because that’s exactly what happened… but the point they’d overlook, the point they’d go out of their way to ignore and/or otherwise deny, is that love doesn’t care about our promises, that nothing conceived or contrived by man can stand against the power of love; all those things that we believe can’t and shouldn’t be done are, in fact, possible because all love really wants you to do is accept it and if you can do something about it, fine… but it’s very much okay if you never do anything except take love into your heart and feel that sense of comfort and bliss because you are more capable to love than you ever believe is possible.

The purists would point out that even if you didn’t physically break your vows, you did so emotionally so you’d be just as guilty as if you had done something… like it’s really possible to not think or feel love… and as if there’s really anything that can deflect the power of love and keep it from touching us once it has already touched us.  Yep, even I would say that if I could be imprisoned for what went on in my head, shit, I would have been locked up way before I learned just how powerful love can be; you can tell me to not think of these things and I could – and I have – tried not to think like that… and it’s impossible and quite unnatural, I think, to suppress one’s thoughts and emotions and against something that cannot be stopped despite our best efforts.

It’s okay to feel what you feel but it’s now all about how well you can accept those feelings and that you understand – and even if it’s because I’m telling you – that you don’t have to do anything else about how you feel, that your feelings can only destroy things if you allow them to.  Maybe there are those of you who think this is nonsense and sheer folly and if you do, fine… but it can’t ever change the fact that it happened to me and the woman I will always love… and we’re not the only people this has happened to and regardless of the outcome.

We were made to love and be loved and the rules, such as they are, don’t always prevent us from feeling more love than what’s “allowable;” our innate need to love and be loved just trumps the rules and, again, you don’t have to believe me but all you really have to do is think about any time in your lives when you were in love… and you knew that you loved someone else, too, and then how it made you feel to have to suppress, dismiss, and work to ignore what you were feeling… and maybe how that didn’t quite work the way you thought it was supposed to.  You may have stopped yourself from acting on those feelings… but did you really stop feeling it?  Is it still there, deep inside of you and warming you with its presence even though you’re really not thinking about it actively?  How many times have you told yourself that you shouldn’t be feeling this way… even though you know good and damned well that you do… yet, it escapes you that the one thing you thought to be impossible is, in fact, possible?

We do know that we are more than capable of falling in love more than once; what we don’t understand or that thing we try to prevent is that we can fall in love at any time and with anyone and no matter what our current situation is.  Like you, there was a time when I didn’t think such a thing was possible… and I was proved to be quite ignorant of what love can really do.  I just knew that falling in love while being in love was just a clusterfuck waiting to happen because it’s not as if other folks had not only learned what I learned but, sadly, had it all go horribly wrong… but there are some things I now understand about this; it’s not really cause and effect – just because we can be in love and fall in love with someone else doesn’t mean we have to do anything about it other than accepting the obvious fact that you are very capable of feeling love and in ways that makes all the staunch monogamists want to soil themselves.  They say it can’t and shouldn’t ever be done… but love says otherwise.

While I did what I did in this, I did learn that, no, you really don’t have to do a damned thing but, yeah, I learned that if you can do it, okay…  but, no, if you can keep yourself from acting, that’s okay, too, but you don’t have to reject your feelings or look at them as being improper either.  If someone tells you that they love you – but you’re already in love with someone – you don’t have to give anything back if you don’t have it to give. Don’t look at it as being impossible because it is possible; don’t kid yourself that such things aren’t ever supposed to happen because they do.  And, maybe it’s just my opinion but if you believe that you cannot allow yourself to feel multiple instances of love, perhaps you don’t really understand what love is.  I’m not trying to insult anyone by saying this and I’ll even apologize if you do feel insulted… but I know something about love that you don’t want to believe, just as I know that I’m not the only person to have learned about love and what it can really mean and despite what our morality demands in this:  To only love one person at a time and that to love someone else alongside that initial love is just wrong.

My friends, that just isn’t the whole truth of things; we are capable of so much more than what we’re being limited to.  We see it as a problem, an accident just waiting to happen… but the truth is that it doesn’t have to be that way, that being in love like this always means that you have to do something about it because we’re taught that when you love someone, you’re supposed to do X, Y, and Z and, yeah, sometimes, even if it complicates our lives because love isn’t always neat and clean, is it?  All you really have to do is accept it, that you can love and be loved by someone else even though you’re already in love with someone who is dear to your heart and soul.

I’ve learned that most people cannot get their heads around acceptance and that’s quite understandable since, again, we’ve been taught that it can’t and shouldn’t ever happen… and blatantly choosing to ignore the fact that it can happen and when you don’t even expect it to; ah, damn, that Murphy dude really knows how and when to just fuck shit up, doesn’t he?  So, yeah – just “merely” accepting it isn’t easy to do… but it can be done.  I have, in fact, fallen in love with someone else quite a few times since learning this valuable lesson… and have done nothing about it other than to accept that I love them.  I bask in it, I revel in the fact that I am capable of doing something that most people can’t allow themselves to do and all because we’re told not to do things like this and that because I do feel the way I do, the only thing that has changed is, well, how I feel; otherwise, it’s business as usual.

Not because I don’t want to – I just know that I don’t have to do anything except accept my feelings.  Likewise, I’ve had people tell me that they love me… and I’ve just accepted that this is how they feel even if I don’t feel love for them; I don’t fault or blame them for their feelings and my “lack” of reciprocating feelings don’t bother me because, duh, I can’t return a feeling that I don’t have, can I?  And it’s no big deal if I can’t return the sentiment and/or feelings – but I can accept it and be happy that someone finds me worthy of their love – and that’s a precious honor that I never take lightly anymore, not after what I learned about love.  We think… we are made to believe…  that there’s only one way to love, that love can only happen in a certain way and at a certain time and only in a specific way… and that’s not the truth – it just isn’t.  You may not believe it but there are others who will read this and they believe it because they’ve experienced it and the reality of it has hit them so hard that they can no longer deny that such a thing is very damned possible even if it’s not actionable.  Yes, it can be problematic, I’d never deny that or sugarcoat it in any way… but only if you allow it to be a problem by thinking you have to do something about it other than accepting your feelings.

I know it… others have learned what I learned so they know it as well… and the questions I will now leave you with are simply this:  Do you know it?  Do you believe it’s impossible?  Can you accept that love truly knows no boundaries?


Posted by on 20 November 2015 in Life, Living and Loving


Tags: , ,


In one of the Flint movies, Derek Flint, played by James Coburn, saved a bunch of beautiful women from a dastardly plot (hatched by women who got faked out by men) by breaking their brainwashing, saying, “You are not a sexual object!” to them.

Mr. Flint actually lied to them because they were obviously sexual objects but what went unsaid and, I think, not implied is that women are, indeed, more than a mere point of objectification.  Women can get pretty pissed about being objectified, can’t they?  But while they are more than just a pretty face, nice tits and ass and fun to have sex with, all of us have been shamed into forgetting that we were designed with sexual objectivity in mind, preprogrammed at the genetic level to be attracted to each other visually and even emotionally and even sexuality doesn’t change any of this.

Yes, I will admit that I love a woman with a nice ass and nice breasts and while I believe this is a preference of mine, um, it really isn’t – I was designed to be attracted to these lovely items and I’m just responding to that while adding some, ah, slight additions to the mix.  Does this make me a bad person (and as another blogger asked earlier today) and more so if I don’t have the opportunity to view the inner woman as well?

Some would say I am, that all I’m interested in are those things that are sexually stimulating and, admittedly, that’s partially true because, um, I’m a guy but I also learned the hard way that since beauty is only skin deep and in the eye of the beholder, I’d better be able to look deeper than that.  Still, I’d be seen as wrong and by a society that does more to objectify women than even I could ever do; indeed, there are many women who have bought into society’s idea of what’s beautiful and what isn’t and transform themselves into works of art and, supposedly, for their own sense of self worth… and get pretty pissy when their beauty attracts us like the proverbial bee to the sweet flower.

We stare, we drool and, yes, we lust like starving motherfuckers because women have further transformed themselves into that which we find even more attractive.  If we objectify you – and I’m not saying that we don’t, at least initially, uh, how is our fault when we are hard wired to be attracted to you except when homosexuality is in play and in part bisexuality as well?

For instance, I look at my woman every day and am aware of all the things of value in her but, instinctively, yes – I see a woman I want to bone every chance I get and not just because I know how good she is in bed; her looks appeal to that which attracts me – nice tits and ass – and, yup, I objectify her like it’s illegal… because I’m supposed to because, like I said in a similar rant, it makes relating with women a little difficult to pull off; sorry, ladies but we, like you, eat with our eyes first and peek inside the bread to see exactly what we are about to eat, literally and figuratively.  That’s why you can look like a billion dollars but once we look deeper, maybe your real worth won’t buy a can of cat food.

So much for being objectified, huh?  Yes, your inner value can override our instinct to be attracted to what we see but, yeah, we are attracted by what we see just the same, making you all legitimate objects of our lust and desires.  And, I believe that you want to be but have been shamed into not wanting to be… all at the same time, which is part of why we think you’re insane – it’s not your fault but our morality’s doing and society ain’t helped matters, either.

I’m bisexual and with another sense of objectification but, yeah, I love women and I sure as hell love looking at you in all your naked glory when I can and clothes when I can’t.  By objectifying you, it fires my imagination, spurs my lust and even makes me want to be the best guy I can be to attract you if I can and, no, not just for sex, but, ah, if that’s all you want, I unashamedly am all for that.

Because I was designed to interact with you on these levels and socially conditioned to, um, behave in a way you find favorable.  Yes, I have my own aesthetic values but the innate attraction is always there and always on unless, of course, you say or show me something to negate this natural behavior and more often than not, you do just that because of your conditioned dislike of being objectified.

See what’s at work here?  It’s a failure to communicate at at primal level, a social disconnect that proves itself to be troublesome and even confusing.  Yes, we can see beneath your exterior beauty… if you allow us to or, yep, if we have developed the ability to do that… but we like what we see before we get to know what we’re looking at and there’s no shame in this nor is it the wrong thing for us to do.  Hell, I kinda like it when a woman objectifies me as a sexual object because even if she doesn’t know it, I know there’s more to me that she hasn’t seen and if she wants to look, fine – no problems there either.  Men objectify me so, yep, I know how annoying it can be at times because I’d want a guy to desire me because, um, I’m desirable and not simply because I’m Black.

But I don’t fault them because we were made to attract each other and, as such, being the clever creatures we are, find many ways to objectify while finding ourselves objectified.

Another rant done and over with…

Leave a comment

Posted by on 19 November 2015 in Life, Living and Loving


Tags: ,

The Shit Is About To Get Deep

One of my Facebook friends posted a picture that showed a woman saying that she didn’t need a man, her daughter saying she didn’t want a man, and a baby boy saying that he didn’t want to be a man; the picture asked about what message can be inferred from this… and what can be inferred is so totally fucked up it isn’t funny.

That the characters depicted were Black makes this whole situation deplorable in my opinion.  So, in response to this, I asked what I thought was an obvious question:  “So why complain about not having a man?”

Along these lines, an easier thing posted by another Facebook friend said that a strong woman doesn’t need a man… but she wants him unless he fucks up, course – and I paraphrased that for simplicity.  I found that I couldn’t completely buy into this sentiment since the word “slacking” was used, a term that’s rather broad and subjective.

And it’s all disturbing and does not speak well of men at all.  Historically, we have used any means, fair or foul, to get women and our collective inability to keep any promises made not only makes us liars but has eroded any trust women may have had in us or, as it always seems to be, makes getting a woman almost impossible even when our intentions are honorable and true.

When a woman says that she doesn’t need a man, gentlemen, we have a problem; when that woman passes that sentiment on to her daughter, we have a bigger problem; when a baby boy improbably says he doesn’t want to be a man, we are well and truly fucked.  When a woman has to get into narrowing down “want” and “need” when it comes to us, ditto – break out the anal lube because this is gonna hurt.

If a woman doesn’t want a man, it’s because she’s become disillusioned because instead of the man being part of her solution, he becomes part of her problem and let’s face it:  Some of us are the problem.  Okay,miss also true that some women can’t function in a relationship very well and just makes it hard for a man to want to do right by her thanks to a plethora of conflicting signals, oh, like, “I want and need you to sex me up good!” and then pitching a bitch about him always wanting sex.

We want and, indeed, need to relate… and we always find a way to just fuck it all up and then bitch and whine when we continuously keep getting and doing it wrong – and then we pass that shit to our children, filling their heads with our frustration and disillusionment so that they will grow up expecting failure at every turn and, perhaps subconsciously, doing shit to guarantee failure… so we can whine, bitch, moan and make poisonous statements like the ones I started this writing with.

As I responded to the first thing, this is a disease – and especially among Blacks – that we need to cure because this mentality threatens to destroy our culture and our rich, proud heritage and this threatens our existence as a race of people.

Good men aren’t born; they have to learn to be good men… but whose definition of “good” are we using?  Have men today been taught the values that would make them qualify as a good man, beyond having a big dick and knowing how to break a girl’s back and turn her out?  The evidence says no; otherwise, there wouldn’t be so many women saying that they don’t need a man because they can truly do badly all by themselves.  There wouldn’t be so many women asking, “Where are all the good men?” or, yeah, learning that all the really good men have already been snatched up by other women but, um, by women who seem to be somewhat incapable of keeping that man fully by her side but, yeah, he’s still learned to be as good of a man that’s needed because he learned how to be like that, as strange as it seems.

To this particular end, this is where I remind all of you that despite what you’ve been made to believe, monogamy is terribly flawed; it’s an idea that doesn’t always work in the real world and I don’t care what you say – if it really did work as intended, no one would have problems getting, having, and keeping a mind-blowing relationship that only death can dissolve.

No one.

Ever.  Anyway…

Relationships just don’t happen and then become self-sustaining and if the people involved aren’t willing to do whatever is necessary to keep it working properly, then men wouldn’t have such a high failure rate and now willing to not even try to be good men… and women wouldn’t be saying they don’t need men and/or whining about not being to find one, good or otherwise.

Do you not see the problem here?  I do… and it’s sad and dangerously so because our failures are infecting our children with the same bad shot that we allow ourselves to be infected with and, often, because we’re all about what we want to do instead of what we can do; we expect, even subconsciously, a man or woman to fit an ideal picture in our head and one that’s built on faulty data – monogamy or the lies we tell to get what we want that are believed – then we get all out of sorts when reality delivers a different picture.

Yes, many of us get it right; we figure out how to be that good man or the woman who can need and want a man… but I’m not talking about these folks.  No, I’m talking about the ones who are all too willing to give up trying; I’m talking about the ones who are so lazy as to expect “The One” to fall out the sky and into their laps; I’m talking about the ones who always find faults in others and without recognizing or acknowledging their own faults when it comes to this necessity of life and, yes, I’m even talking about the one who can see their collusion and complicity in this failure… but never feel that they have to change anything about themselves in order to get the happiness they crave.  I’m talking about the ones who have expectations so high that no human yet born could ever hope to reach and then wonder why they fail and/or why they “get treated so bad” when they are, in fact, the sole reason; they not only set themselves up to fail but everyone they try to relate with.

Do you not see the problem?  Do you not recognize the diseased mindset that, left untreated, will ultimately be the end of us all?  We all have that “I want what I want and the way I want it” thing going on with us but, um, if it’s not exactly that way, do you have what it takes to work with someone who, hopefully, wants to forego “what they want” for “what we can do together” and build something that’s unique and tailored to everyone involved?

It seems, by those Facebook things I mentioned, apparently not because if they were, there would be less people feeling like that.  We have the power to get this much needed thing done; we can effect change in something that hasn’t changed since before the time of Christ… but I guess it’s easier to spout such negative and devisive statements than it is to do something about it and just roll over and show our bellies or, yeah, make ourselves unobtainable by drawing thick lines between that which we want and what we need.

Do you not see the problem? Do you not see how we are fucking each other up and future generations of ourselves?  When a woman emphatically states that she doesn’t need a man, do you not see the problem here – and it ain’t just about those men she deems unworthy or beneath her?  Fellas, it doesn’t help that some us are part of the problem but I dunno know about y’all but when I hear a woman say this, it not only greatly worries me but can diminish my worth as a man because while it’s bad for women to not wants us, it is disastrous when they believe we are no longer needed.

All of this is a threat to our continued existence regardless to race, color, creed, or sexuality orientation/designation:  If this keeps up, if this diseased mindset continues to poison and ruin us unchecked and without effecting a cure, we will ultimately face extinction and not one due to our genocidal behavior to make war on each other over differences in ideology.

Whew… what a rant this was…

Leave a comment

Posted by on 19 November 2015 in Life, Living and Loving


Tags: ,


That time I decided I couldn't go another minute without giving in and kissing girls

The Watering Hole

Where everyone comes to quench their thirst for insight to life's challenging questions.

B0Y . LU5T

Coming to terms with being male, atheist, married, over 40, bisexual, kinky and blurring the lines of monogamy while living in a conservative "red state" .


Parts Of My Life



The Wise Serpent


Fetishes, Gender Issues, Sexual Politics, Erotic Memoirs

a worried whimsy

bouncing between happy and anxious

ann st vincent

My journey through marriage, open marriage, divorce, being a Mom, sexual rebirth, online dating, failed relationships, and lots of sex


Forcing the arbitrary under a lens.

The Conquest Files

"The truth is rarely pure and never simple." - Oscar Wilde

More Is Merrier

Views on consensual non-monogamy

Brighton Bipolar

Adult Survivor of Child Abuse and Diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder - Working towards ending the stigma of Mental Illness

Everything I Learned about Sex

I learned on the stripper pole

Assentively Yours

Ramblings of a depressed mind and other nuances.

Larry Archer's World (

Erotica from the dirty mind of Larry Archer


is there a path to a successful open marriage?


The silent inside of an anonymous Indian rebelling against society

The (Bi)te

The uninteresting world of a young bisexual girl


What Perspective Matters Most Depends on Your Perception


Just my random thoughts and meanderings... I'll try to keep you entertained

Ramblings of a 30-Something

My Thoughts, My Feelings, My Words


when and why size matters


I write when the choice is to die if I don't

My SEXuality

Why am I afraid to tell you who I'am?

Confessions of a Cheating Housewife

...because love just isn't enough ;)

Apparently I Don't Exist

The Many Adventures of a Bisexual Genderqueer

MinimalistPolyGeek's Journal

Discussing polyamory, depression, minimalism, and communal living


WARNING **This Blog Is For Mature Audiences OVER THE AGE OF 18**

Writing Myself into a Hole

The flailing scraps of a struggling writer. Original fiction and creative whining, whenever my petulance will allow it.

Mighty Cents Worth

The greatest site in all the land!

Penny's Dirty Thoughts

Penny's blog of sex related writing and photography

Journey of MsT

"His breath took me in..."


Join us for an excursion into intelligent indulgence...

Tanya's Embassy for Transgender Girls

I'm a transgender girl happily on a journey to looking better, being more feminized and overcoming adversity. Whether in your teens or way beyond, if you’re a transgender girl, this is for you. Like an embassy in a hostile land, this is the place to gain strength, to get empowering information and to belong. I made this place based on what I've learned; I hope it helps you. Welcome home.

bisou bi bisou

Bisexual Bible: Setting it straight the gay way

So the world be

Just some general musings from a queer woman about life, sexuality, and everything in between


Art. Film. Gluten-Free. History. Design. Bisexuality.


liberating the ways people love, experience the Erotic, and connect to the Sacred


One Woman's Late-Blooming Sexual Journey


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 482 other followers