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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...

Finally!

Yesterday was a crazy kind of day; we had maintenance in so they could cut a hole in our ceiling to find out – and fix – the reason why it’s so cold in our “office” during the winter.  One of us usually watches the work being done until it’s been completed… but we couldn’t… because I had an appointment with my dentist to finally – finally! – get my completed dentures!

My friends, I gotta admit that this process takes some doing to get used to and coming to the end of it, man, I was getting so impatient and dreams of just biting shit because I’d be able to haunted my sleep.  Still, I was quite calm; even though I was told what to expect – and it was all damned good information – it’s not quite the same as being in the moment when the first denture (top) was actually popped into my mouth… and it hurt like a motherfucker because of a rather large bone spur I didn’t know was present!

I was momentarily baffled because as many times as I’ve looked in my mouth since my natural teeth were removed, I never saw the spur and my tongue, it seems, can’t quite reach the area; I’m sitting in the chair, poking around in my mouth with my finger and asking, “Where did that come from?  I didn’t know it was there!”

Oh, and Linda was laughing at me the whole time…

The doctor comes in and I tell her where I felt the pain – now she’s got her finger in my mouth probing the spur but she said she was confident that she could adjust the denture so that it wouldn’t rub on that spot, along with some other adjustments she felt were necessary.  As the doctor kept making adjustments – and Linda continued to have a fun good time laughing – it was weird because, again, I knew what to expect but at the same time, my brain is in a fast learning mode trying to process the rather weird feeling  of having dentures in my mouth which also included dealing with the copious amounts of saliva present; it seems that because my mouth thinks there’s some foreign objects in it, it responds by producing extra saliva to protect my gums, just like what happens when you’re thirsty and you put a pebble in your mouth.

Linda’s laughing and it’s infectious; I’m in the chair laughing, the dental assistant is laughing and my doctor seems to be trying really hard not to smile as the final (or for the moment) adjustments are made and I have both dentures in.  I turn my head to look at Linda and smile… and she cracks up laughing all over again.  We get serious while the doctor talks to me about how to apply denture adhesive – which I asked her to apply to the bottom because it was floating around on all the saliva my mouth was producing like crazy.

It felt good… and so very weird all at the same time.  Linda is still laughing as I try to speak… and my first attempts would have had me laughing if I hadn’t been so busy trying to swallow and get my gag reflex under control and, oh, yeah, also trying to get my damned tongue under control because it wants to completely explore things when it would be best if it didn’t.  Yeah, I knew there there was going to be a learning curve but understanding what that’s gonna involved is, again, very damned different.  We left the dentist’s office and headed home (and after a stop to get some bread) and I’m trying to work on getting used to my dentures and, damn, I can’t say it enough:  I knew it wasn’t going to be easy and it’s even less easy than I could imagine.  I’m trying to talk (yes, Linda’s still laughing her ass off), trying to swallow, trying to get a sense of how things are going in my mouth – it was all pretty confusing but we finally get home… and there’s a huge hole in the ceiling but that’s okay – the HVAC guy would be back to close it up.

And I’m thinking about tearing into the fried chicken (and French fries) I’m having for dinner.  Linda’s still laughing at me every time she looks at me; I’m trying to talk to her – it’s getting better but not really – the saliva is flowing like crazy and then I get the brilliant idea that maybe I should anchor my top denture and, honestly, I needed to learn how to do it myself.  Under Linda’s watchful eye, I go to take my top denture out… and get a lesson in what the word “retention” means, like, this thing is hard to get out because of the suction created between the denture and the roof of my mouth – but I get it out and carefully apply three little spots of adhesive and back in they go.

My mouth is pitching a bitch – but not because of any pain but because, well, I have foreign objects in my mouth and it’s not happy.  Linda takes a moment to ask if I can feel the denture seated in place and I say that I can feel that – and she starts laughing again and all I can do is laugh along with her.  As I’m sitting and trying to get acclimated to my dentures, she finally tells me what she’s finding so hysterically funny:  Have you seen that “doggy denture” commercial and the dog with the really big – and really white – teeth?  Okay, my dentures aren’t that bad but now I have the image of it in my mind and, yeah, it’s pretty damned funny.  I’m sitting in the living room trying to behave normally… and it’s just not working!  I’m deliberately talking to myself so I can relearn how to speak normally, the saliva is still flowing crazily, Linda can be heard giggling in the bedroom and I’m thinking, damn, this is gonna take a while to get used to.

I still have my mind on that fried chicken… but I gotta call my mother and that went kinda/sorta okay; there were a few times when I sounded as if I had a pair of socks in my mouth and I can hear the amusement in her voice as I’m trying to talk and swallow and, fuck, this is really gonna take a while to get used to!  The hardest thing is trying to teach my tongue how to behave, trying to find out exactly where it can sit normally in my mouth and, yes, trying to get it to stop fucking with the damned dentures!

But wait… this gets better.

It’s time to eat!  Linda’s making a chicken sandwich and it’s a work of art; the way she meticulously makes a sandwich can make you not want to eat it because it looks so good!  I’ve got the fryer set up and going and, soon enough, all the food is done… and now another test, another thing I have to learn:  Biting and chewing.  My friends, if I thought having dentures in my mouth felt weird, these two things took all of the cake!  I realize that, at least for now, I can’t feel what I’m biting; I know I’m biting the chicken (and it was good, by the way) but there’s no feedback!  I’m chewing, moving the chicken from one side of my mouth to the other and just trying to get used to my new bite – how my teeth are gonna work to pulverize the food…

And I bit the shit out of the inside of my bottom lip.

Linda’s laughing again but talking me through how to do this with dentures – she used to work in a dental office so she knows about this.  At one point, I realize that the little bit of adhesive that was put in at the dentist office for my bottom denture just wasn’t enough; I’m trying to chew and the denture is now lifting up – so Linda takes me into the bathroom and we really glue this bitch down and that worked:  I got to finish my first meal with my new teeth and, damn, this is really gonna take some getting used to!

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Where was I?  Oh, yeah… By the time we finished eating, I’d now had my dentures in for a whole four and a half hours and while I understood that things like talking, eating, and drinking were going to be difficult to relearn, the one thing I admit to not giving a lot of thought to was having my dentures in – period.  Now, you might be thinking that I should have given this some thought and I’ll tell you why I didn’t.  See, for the last four months, I’ve been talked to about having dentures with most conversations starting with, “Once you get them and put them in…” so, naturally,  my thoughts are focused on what happens after they’re in… which didn’t exactly include having them in at all.  I was talked to about putting them in and caring for them, along with retraining my wayward tongue so I can  speak without sounding like, well, like I have a dick in my mouth and, of course, eating.  But what I realized, after four and a half hours, is that your mouth gets tired just from having the dentures in!  Sounds weird, huh?  Well,  let’s just hope you never get to find this out for yourself.

I told Linda that I was ready to take my dentures out, which got me a stern look because, yes, I know that in order for me to totally acclimate to them, the longer I keep them in, the sooner this will happen but we went back to the bathroom and I got a hands-on lesson on how to remove my dentures, how to brush them, and how to get them doing the Polident thing… and if you had seen me trying to get them out of my mouth, well, you’d be laughing just like Linda was; when the makers of Fixodent tell you about the great hold their product has, you’d better believe it!  There’s a certain way to break the seal that exists once you apply Fixodent or Poligrip; instead of trying to lift them straight up, it’s best to try to gently rock them until you can both hear and feel the seal break… and that’s easier to say than to do because you can’t use a lot of force to do this unless you wanna hurt your mouth.

The bottom comes out and into a sink of warm water they go… and now I’m trying to get the top out and let’s just say it wasn’t a walk in the park; Linda informs me that because I really hadn’t had them in and sealed for very long, the bond would be much stronger but, yeah, I got it out, got my dentures brushed (so much easier to brush all of your teeth when you’re holding them gently in your hand), and into the case for soaking.

My mouth felt wonderful even though I did  spend a few minutes trying to get the Fixodent out of my mouth that decided to stay on my gums.  As I though about my initial experience with my new dentures, I was both happy and kinda bummed out to realize just how long it might take for me to get used to them… but wait!  There’s more!

Yesterday (Thursday), I get up and hit the bathroom to get washed up, brush my gums and tongue and now, the newest thing, put my dentures in.  After rinsing them off and drying them, I carefully apply Fixodent to, first, the bottom and ease it in nicely before doing the same for the top after trying to figure out where on my upper denture that bone spur I mentioned is hitting so I can, as instructed, apply a little extra stuff to cushion the area.  They’re in and now I’m about to  experience my first full day with my dentures… and you just cannot imagine how not-easy it was.  The saliva is back in force and with a vengeance; my tongue just will not stop fucking with the dentures and because it won’t, I’m not only having a problem talking but my gag reflex wants to kick in every so often.  I’m trying to do things normally and, well, normal has taken on a very new and different meaning and just like the day before, Linda is laughing her ass off at times as she watches me intensely trying to adjust to all of this.

We had a pool party to go to that was being put on my the apartment complex’s staff and I was looking forward to it because it was going to be a test of how well I could eat other things.  I got a cheeseburger and went to work on it… and quickly learned that bread wants to stick to my dentures and especially at the top where my “pallet” is so now I’m both chewing and putting my tongue to work scraping the bread off of everything – but I ate it and I’m happy about that.  Next, I tried a hot dog… and I did well with that right up to when I bit my bottom lip in the exact same place I bit  it the night before and I’m not a happy camper about that, as you might imagine.  Next, I tried to eat a parfait of strawberries, pineapple and granola (made by Edible Arrangements, which was in attendance at our party for some reason); it was pretty good, too; the granola and strawberries didn’t give me any problems but the pineapple did, a reminder that even though I have all my teeth, there are going to be some things I may not be able to eat like I had my natural teeth – but I got through the parfait.

I went for another cheeseburger, this time with with pickle and onion and, nope, didn’t do well biting the pickle but gnawed through the onion effortlessly – that had me scratching my head but, okay, I’m learning.  By now, I’d had my dentures in for about seven hours and while I’m not feeling a whole lot of discomfort except where I bit the shit out of my lip and maybe one little spot at the front-bottom of my mouth, well, I realized that my mouth was actually tired from having the dentures in.  The party broke up and we got back in around 7:30 and I’ve had just about enough of these dentures for one day!  I hit the bathroom and gets things ready so I can put these puppies to bed for the night.

I started to get the bottom out… and it’s not easy; even though I didn’t put a whole lot of Fixodent in, it’s really in my mouth and I’m trying to get the edge of my fingernails under the edge of the denture so I can  rock and wiggle it loose – and all without hurting my mouth in the process.  It finally comes out, I utterly fail to use my tongue to swipe at the Fixodent clinging to everything and, fuck, this has gotten messy… but I got the denture out and decided to worry about the leftover stuff later.  I gently put it into the warm water I had in the sink… and now it’s time to get the top out… and holy fucking shit:  This motherfucker is really in place!  Between the Fixodent and the natural suction (again, called retention), I’m having one hell of a time (a) getting a ‘grip’ on the denture and (b) trying to get it to move.  I know the last things I want to do is to use too much force to remove it because I could really hurt my mouth and the denture my come flying out and if I don’t catch it, I could wind up breaking it.  I’m working on it and it’s not budging; my fingers are super-slick with saliva and I actually got so tired working to get it out that I was leaning against the wall to rest and I can feel a bit of panic starting to creep in.

Linda’s already in the bedroom and I was seriously thinking about calling for some help but, no, I can do this – I have to do this – so I’m still at it when, finally, after about five minutes of effort, I can feel and hear the seal break (a rather obscene sound if I may say so) and my near-panic turns into joy as the denture finally starts to move and then slides out (right along with another mess of leftover Fixodent).  I am so relieved as I put the upper into the water – and now I’m trying to get the leftover Fixodent out of my mouth.  I manage to get most of it out and go to work brushing my teeth – there’s still quite a bit of Fixodent on them so I’m scrubbing the shit out of them with the denture brush until they’re clear of any stuff and into the Polident solution they go.

And my mouth feels better… but not really and I’m not sure how to explain that.  I’m still getting Fixodent out of my mouth; I can feel it with my tongue but when I went to scrape it out with a finger, I could barely feel it – it felt just like it was my gums.  While I’m getting it all out (I think), I’m sipping on an ice-cold Coke and, let me tell you, the cold of the ice felt so damned good!  My mouth isn’t sore but it’s feeling some kind of way after the ordeal of removing my dentures and I had a sobering thought:

I get to get up in the morning and do it all over again.  I’m kinda looking forward to it; my mother will be here later today and I know she can’t wait to see my new “peggies” as she calls them and it’s be good to smile at her and not flashing her an empty mouth.  My sister-in-law and her husband will be here at some point today and while they never saw me without teeth, they’ll get to see my new smile as well.  I have to admit that my mind is already at the end of the day and I’m wondering how getting my dentures out is going to go:  Did I put enough Fixodent in so that nothing comes loose especially at dinner time?  Did I put too much in and it’s going to be another battle getting them out?  Of course, at this moment, I know that I won’t know until it’s time to take them out..

I’ve been sitting here finishing this, drinking coffee, talking to Linda (she only laughed once so far but the day’s young) and I’m feeling better today with my dentures than I did yesterday and, well, I guess I’ll just see how things play out as the day progresses…

 
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Posted by on 4 September 2015 in Life, Living and Loving

 

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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: Stray Thoughts

I don’t seem to have much in the way of “organized” thoughts about male bisexuality today, although one of the stray thoughts I started my day with was this whole deal going on with Ashley Madison, the site that got hacked and a lot of people got outed:  I saw an RSS news feed blurb that mentioned that since the hack, a whole lot of women have signed up to the site; the associated article said, in short, that even though the site got hacked, it’s still business as usual and this new influx of women signing up speaks to this assertion.

I saw a blog the other day where the blogger was giving men the business for being on this site and being unfaithful and, as a man, I thought the opinion was unfair since the Ashley Madison site is also populated by women who are looking to have an affair… or two or three… so if men are a bunch of unfaithful curs for using this site what, if anything, does it say about the women who are there for the same reason?

How is this related to male bisexuality?  I guess it kinda/sorta loosely ties in when you look at the mindset in play and the insistence that everyone in a relationship is semper fidelis, no exceptions, no excuses and is an integral part of the mindset that insists that everyone be heterosexual… even though we know good and damned well that not everyone in a relationship is going to always be faithful and we know that not everyone is straight.

Why hasn’t our collective mindset changed about these things?  Why is it so difficult to accept that there are a lot of people around the world who don’t want to be faithful, might have a damned good reason not to be faithful and, oh, yeah, maybe some of these unfaithful, immoral motherfuckers have no inclination to be heterosexual, full-time or not at all?  The facts are out there, personified by millions of people who believe that being monogamous and heterosexual just isn’t the only way for people to exist… yet the facts continue to be ignored and are still presumed to be the wrong way to exist… and this abject denial just simply doesn’t make any sense.

If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, doesn’t that mean that ducks do exist?

I’ve spent a large part of my life wondering about shit like this.  As I’ve said a lot of times, it’s not as if we’re not taught the rules once we’re old enough to understand them and we believe that this is the way things have to be, only to begin to experience life and find out that, no, that’s not quite the way things are taking place in the real world.  We start to learn that both things can’t be right; if everyone is supposed to be monogamous and straight, then why are there so many people who aren’t monogamous and straight?  Many of us won’t even dare to listen to a question like this, let alone try to answer it because it’s been hammered home that we should never question this aspect of life… but there are also many of us with the temerity to question the status quo and find fault in its existence and purpose because, obviously, there are too many people in the world who are, in fact, not playing by the rules and for whatever reason that may be.

And these things aren’t a modern-day problem:  These things have been going on for longer than anyone would care to remember; we tend to not pay much attention to the fact that there were many times in our species’ history where husbands or wives were expected to take lovers on the side, that there were bisexuals and homosexual everywhere and it wasn’t a big deal that they were as long as they were being discrete about it or, in some cultures, playing by a specific set of rules.

We continue to fail to learn from history… so we keep repeating it and perpetuating the same “mistakes” that have been present ever since someone “put their foot down” and decided that everyone has to be monogamous and straight.  We keep being shocked and offended by the actions of people who aren’t being monogamous and straight and we’re more than willing to condemn them to whatever hell or purgatory they believe in… while blithely ignoring the fact that it’s just people being the way people have always been… and they say that those of us who don’t always or exactly (or never) play by the rules are the ones with the problem and considered to be morally bankrupt and, I dunno, you just gotta wonder about this and find where any of this behavior actually makes any sense.

There’s the way things are supposed to be… and then there’s how things really are.  Men aren’t the only ones out there looking to be unfaithful; women are out there in droves as well and the reasons why don’t really matter in the grand scheme of things since it’s still just people being the way people have always been – and the same thing applies to sexuality; the way things are supposed to be is that no man or woman should ever be bisexual or homosexual – there’s no reason for it and all that good shit – which doesn’t change the fact that there are bisexuals and homosexuals (and some of them are, have been, might be unfaithful if need be) because it’s still just people being the way people have always been.

Morality, where monogamy and sexuality is concerned, does work for many people so let’s not lose sight of this important fact… but let’s not lose sight of the equally important fact that not being monogamous and not being straight also works for many people… and, as it’s been said by many people (and some of them are much smarter than I am), if being monogamous and straight really worked the way its said to work, then everyone would always and forever be monogamous and straight.

And it’s still pretty damned obvious that this isn’t the case and never really has been.  I understand that we should behave like we’re civilized, that there are certain things that are supposed to be beneath us – like not being monogamous and straight – and that the majority firmly believes that this is the best way for us to be as a species… but if we have reason not to behave in this way – and there are so many reasons for not behaving in the prescribed and mandated way that even I couldn’t  write about all of them – then what, exactly, does everyone think is going to happen?  I even thought that the mandate to be monogamous and straight is, in fact, unenforceable; the punishments for not toeing the line, while being inhumanly extreme over our history – like putting people to death – have done nothing to stop people from behaving the way they feel they have or need to.

Some say that because there are those of us who aren’t monogamous and straight, our species is doomed, that this lack of morality will undo all that we’ve worked to achieve and that our veneer of civility will be sorely eroded… and all without really thinking that we are, in fact, evolving and faster than morality can deal with… and that very much disturbs a great many people.  I cannot say that those staunch supporters of being monogamous and straight are fighting a losing battle in that sense but they are fighting a battle against change and those who resist change tend not to do well in the long run.

I do have to point out that this isn’t just my opinion; it’s impossible for me to be the only one who sees what’s going on here and how the old ways of doing things are being changed… but not necessarily totally discarded.  You don’t have to agree and you don’t even have to like what I’ve written here and if it offends you, sorry about that – and I really am but I’m still the guy who will speak to shit that no one else really wants to.

 
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Posted by on 1 September 2015 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts

 

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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: “Boys Will Be Boys!”

This phrase is generally used to “explain” some of the crazy, insane, and inexplicable things guys are prone to do; using it is easier than trying to launch into a detailed explanation for why we’d do something, like, oh, say, get caught choking the chicken, laying the pipe to a girl or, in more “extreme” examples, giving your best friend a blow job, getting busted getting fucked in the ass and other things along these lines.

So last night, I found myself scrolling through Tumblr – and because I hadn’t bothered to check the app for any comments to my blog posts that go there – and, honestly, I’m not sure what Tumblr started out as… but I’m thinking it’s probably one of the biggest porn sites on the Internet.  Anyway, I’m scrolling along and my mind is automatically picking out pictures I’ve seen too many times – a lot of the porn seen on this site is recycled more than paper – but some of the new stuff that’s following me (and not by my choice, mind you) is all about boys being boys… and in a way that we know boys can be boys but, more often than not, do our best to turn a blind eye to.

There were guys jerking off, putting their cocks and asses on display; there were pics and videos of guys of all races, colors, and creeds sucking dick, being sucked, getting nailed in the ass with the real thing or with dildos that had colors I’m sure don’t really appear in nature (or other objects I’m sure weren’t designed to be inserted into one’s anus); some of these guys were faceless, most weren’t and interspersed in all the “amateur” offerings was the expected gay porn stuff that even makes me ask, “What the fuck…?”

I think I saw like four or five straight video clips of boys being boys… and sniffing something from a small brown bottle and I’ll admit that I’m not quite sure what’s in it but I suspect it’s amyl nitrite or one of the other nitrites that are known as poppers; amyl nitrite relaxes the body’s smooth muscles and can facilitate anal sex and, I guess, make whatever sex you’re having better even though one of the things this drug does is cause an immediate drop in one’s blood pressure.  Under the banner of “boys will be boys,” I can admit that I got a noseful of amyl nitrite once – me and the guys who found the package of ampules thought it was ammonia or smelling salts – and, being boys, it was automatically a good idea to pop one of the ampules and take a very deep breath because it’s just funny to get a big whiff of ammonia and watch someone’s eyes water like Niagara Falls… except this wasn’t ammonia and I can tell you that immediate drop in my blood pressure wasn’t fun at all; given what I remember about that experience, I also kinda don’t see how having the bottom drop out of your BP – something I found to be pretty damned scary – makes having sex pleasurable or even doable – but that’s me.

The guy(s) posting this stuff must have been on a roll because I was scrolling through this stuff for very long minutes before I found something that wasn’t related to boys being boys; I found myself to be “surprised” at the diversity of the men being depicted:  White, Black, Hispanic, Oriental; young (at least 18) and middle-aged men; chubby, undeniably and unquestionably fat, skinny as a rail, muscular, and overly muscled and, yep, even some shots of guys old enough to be my father parading around in the nude or manhandling their erections for the camera; the demographics being displayed was, well, kinda awesome because when it comes to this, boys being boys isn’t limited to just one aspect or one segment; some of these men appeared to be gay (not that you can always tell by looking but, yeah, sometimes you can) but what got me was that most of the men depicted were the kind of men you’d never suspect would be interested in another man’s body… but there they are, in all their lusty glory, boys just being boys.

Now, what cracked me up was a picture of a young Black guy sucking another Black guy’s dick… and trying to hide his face while he had a good amount of dick in his mouth; other pictures and video clips had guys wearing “Lone Ranger”-type masks or other devices in an attempt to disguise their features… and I had to laugh at how ludicrous this all seemed to me:  They were willing to be photographed and/or filmed having sex with other men… but were doing some funny shit so that no one would find out who they were?  I  mean, a lot of the guys trying to hide their features had more tattoos than I have and most of them quite unique so even if you really couldn’t see the guy’s face, his unique tats were a dead giveaway… so why bother to hide your face?

Oh, and then, why bother to hide your face and not really do a good job of hiding it?  I’m seeing this stuff and rolling my eyes at these lame attempts to be anonymous, thinking that the police – and definitely the NSA – has facial recognition software that’s good enough to ID these guys and despite their best efforts to hide their identity.  But then it got funnier when I saw (in particular) young Black men on their knees, sloppily sucking dick… and trying to look into the cellphone camera all at the same time… and some were even trying to hold the phone, look at the phone, and deal with the cock being vigorously inserted into their oral cavity.

And even I thought, “Boys will be boys, even in these days and times…”  I even started to think about the hypocrisy being displayed on Tumblr, that being, there are so many men who like having sex with other men that don’t want anyone to know that they like this kind of sex… but they’ll put themselves on Tumblr (and God only know what other sites) for the whole damned world to see.  I know that in the early days of the Internet, your anonymity was pretty much assured but today?  You can’t do shit without your IP address being tracked and logged, your location determined – and, yes, even by a picture or video and more so if you have any inkling of how cell phones work; anyone with the right skills and tools (say, someone with my training), if they wanted to, could find out who these men are, where they live, where their picture or video was taken, when it was taken, all that good stuff… and I found myself wondering if these guys – and especially the ones who were trying to hide who they were (and often failing miserably) – even gave any of this some thought before putting themselves out there and in some, uh, compromising situations.

I’m not knocking these men for putting themselves out there because, boys being boys, doing shit that most people wouldn’t dream of doing always sounds like a fun thing to do; it’s being in-your-face naughty and, of course, it’s all very familiar to me because I’ve done much of the same things these guys can be seen doing as far as the sex goes – it really is boys being boys.  We – society – get our asses on our backs about homosexual sex; we denigrate it, vilify it, and pretty much every- and anything that can be done to cast this in the most negative light as possible… and nothing has come close to stopping or preventing boys from being boys in this sense.

Ever.

I closed the Tumblr app (and without finding anything related to my blog posts this time) and found myself somewhat deep in thought about what I’d seen.  There was a time when boys having sex with boys was seen as a queer/gay thing to do only; then more bisexual men were coming to the surface (or out of their closets, if you prefer) and, well, y’all know what they’re saying about bisexual men… but it occurred to me that it is very possible that a lot of the men I saw having some kind of sex just may not have been gay or bi because it only takes a few things for a man to have sex with another man:  A desire to do it and another guy to say, “Okay, let’s do this thing!” – and simply because it can be done and sexuality, as we currently understand it anyway, isn’t at issue; I mean, how many men today will tell you that they’re heteroflexible (I still can’t stand this word) or categorically deny that they’re bisexual… but they don’t have a problem getting busy with a dick despite their insistence that they are and always have been straight?

I even thought for a moment that while these guys putting their business out there on the Internet does give this kind of sex some necessary visibility, like, if you still think guys ain’t doing this, I beg you to guess again – but, at the same time, looking at some of the shit these “boys” are doing to each other, well, maybe this is the kind of “publicity” we don’t really need.  Still, when it comes to the question of accepting that boys will always be boys in this, well, how much more evidence is required before society realizes that this is the way we can be and for whatever reason that makes sense to us?  They find boys being boys abhorrent but you can also go on Tumblr and see acts of heterosexual sex that even make me cringe – and I’ve seen some shit in my time.  It kinda fucks with my sensibilities that folks would think that it’s okay for a dude with a moderately (or very) large dick to deliberately gag a woman with until she’s practically throwing up… but it’s a bad thing to see a man with his dick in another man’s ass; we can even look at a picture or video clip with a woman, her face buried into another woman’s crotch, and find this to be all fine and dandy… but let it be a pic or a clip of a guy with a dick buried in my mouth and watch how badly we can react to this.

I remember, back in the day, when two brothers got caught having sex with each other; the ass-kicking they got became legendary in our ‘hood, let me tell ya!  What I remember about this was what I overheard some adults talking about what happened; gossip  is the only thing faster than the speed of light; sure, it was deplorable, despicable behavior that they were both gonna burn in hell for and they should have gotten their asses kicked worse than what they did (and believe me, it was bad) but the general consensus was, “You know how it is – it’s just boys being boys!”  Those adult males were in agreement that if they ever caught their sons doing some shit like that, there would be hell to pay even if it was just boys being boys,  Now, I certainly wasn’t going to say anything about the fact that the sons of some of those men were “being boys,” just like I wasn’t insane enough to mention that some of those adults were guilty of “just being boys” either.

Back then, it was all pretty confusing:  They knew that some boys were having sex with boys, thought of it as being a matter of course because, um, boys will be boys, but at the same time, it was the worst thing in the world for boys to be doing… and I wondered how both things could be seen as being “all right and proper.”  Today I get it… but we still acknowledge that boys will be boys even as we continue to go our of our way to denounce boys being boys when it comes to this and even when boys can be seen being boys on Tumblr and other places.

Man… we live in one crazy, fucked up world…

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

 

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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: The Moment You Get It

His hands were under my ass, pulling me upward to meet the downward movement of his head; the heat and wetness of his mouth on my cock was so delightful, as was feeling his tongue playing around all over the place.  One hour ago, we had been just sitting and talking about not much in particular when the conversation turned to things sexual and, from there, he sheepishly admitted that he had always wanted to know what it was like to have another guy blow him.  As usual for me, I had no idea what made him think that I was the person to talk to about this… although he probably had it in his mind that there probably aren’t too many guys who’ve wondered about this at the very least.  I guess he knew he was taking a chance bringing up this subject – and I liked his bravery and his honesty about it so I said to him, “Would you like to find out what it’s like?”

It didn’t take him long to shed his pants and underwear – he never bothered to verbally answer the question.  He was, as we used to say, “ready for Freddy” but I took a moment to explain a few things to him and, in particular, that while I’d be happy to do this for him, he didn’t have to concern himself with returning the favor.  You see, I know – I learned – that a lot of guys will consent to have another dude suck his dick because it’s a hell of a lot easier to receive than it is to give and, as such, I never saw a reason to put a man who is new to this under any pressure to do something he may not be able to bring himself to do.  He told me that he understood what I was saying and since he did, I closed my mouth around his prick…

He came a few minutes later, filling my mouth with quite a load of spunk and I was finding it a little difficult to concentrate on swallowing all of it while trying not to laugh at his vocalizations – man, do I just love giving a dude his first male blowjob!  After he caught his breath, he apologized for cumming too soon but I waved it off as inconsequential, telling him, “It doesn’t matter whether you do it quickly or it takes a while – all that matters is that you came so don’t sweat the small stuff, okay?”

He nodded his agreement – you could see the concern he had over his, ah, early release just go away.  I sat back on my heels and watched him think about what had just happened and I could tell that his mind was telling him that, hey, this shit isn’t as bad as everyone says it is!  Even as I watched him process this new experience, I was also thinking about my own erection, trapped in my underwear and jeans and how good it was going to feel to get myself off after he went on his way.  I was content; I’d sucked cock, swallowed some pretty good tasting sperm, and I’d given another guy his first time and, well, the situation really couldn’t be any better.

Or so I thought.  When he finished thinking, I was really surprised to hear him say, “Okay, I think it’s your turn now…” because once I tell a guy that he doesn’t have to return the favor, I just don’t expect him to.  Yeah, I should know better; I should know that a guy can get it into his head to do something he was told he didn’t have to do but, oh, well, that’s just the way my mind words.

I got to my feet (my legs and knees were quite happy about that) and stood still as he worked to get my pants unfastened; he hooked his thumbs into the waist of my pants and underwear and pulled everything down and I helped by stepping out of my clothing.  “Lie down on the sofa,” he said, his voice rather quiet.  I did as he asked but didn’t fail to notice that as I went to lie down, his eyes never left my erection.

“Christ, what am I doing?” he asked – and I’m guessing he was asking himself as he took my erection in his hand and pumped it a couple of times, causing a bit of pre-cum to ooze out.  He was looking at it as if he were hypnotized or something, absently licking his lips as he stroked my cock a couple of more times – then leaned forward and let his tongue swipe the stream of pre-cum from my knob; the sensation of his tongue making contact with me was… electric but I forced myself to lie as still as I could be, watching him process the taste that now coated his tongue.

Then he took the knob of my cock into his mouth and I could feel his whole body trembling as he settled in between my legs.  I’ve had my dick sucked by people who I’d say are expert at sucking dick… but nothing thrills me more than to be sucked by someone who, before this moment, never sucked dick before; their lack of experience – something that some guys would find to be bothersome – is… shit, I don’t know how to describe it other than to say it’s amazingly good.  He let his tongue play along my knob for unknown seconds and I was watching him closely; I could see him thinking that, okay, this really isn’t that bad, either but I could also see that he was unsure of what to do at this point… and then I could see the moment when his brain told him, “Just do to him what he did to you!”

His head started to move up and down, taking more of my cock on each downward movement and all I said was, “Easy… don’t try to take too much…” – but he did and I could feel his gag reflex respond – that’s an interesting feeling, too; I gave him a lot of Brownie points as he got it under control and, with one hand holding onto the base of my dick, started to get into the forbidden act of sucking another man’s dick… and, boy, did he get into it.

I don’t know what it is but it seems that when a guy is sucking cock for the first time, he just seems to figure out how to go about doing it and the more confident he is about it, the more he tries to do.  His tongue is all over the place; the hand he has gripping my dick is pumping me fast and hard and, yeah, a little painfully… but this is a critical moment and I don’t want to do or say anything that will break the spell that’s come over him; I’m fighting that instinct to fuck into his mouth and while I’m managing not to do this, uh, trying to stay perfectly still has gone out the window because everything he’s doing to me feels good.

He shifts his position and I feel his other hand cupping my balls – and I made it easier for him by throwing a leg onto the back of the sofa, exposing more of myself so he can get at me better – and he does; he takes me out of his mouth and starts sucking my shaft, working his way down so he can suck one of my nuts into his mouth.  “Not too hard,” I whisper to him as I wince in reaction to how hard he was sucking my balls.  He nods and eases the suction on my nuts, his tongue washing them expertly… even though he had never done anything like this before.  I had to give him some serious extra credit because he collected some of the saliva that was now dripping all over the place onto a finger and experimentally pushed it into my ass.

“Oh, wow,” I moaned, my body automatically relaxing so he could get his finger inside me, pushing it in as far as he could get it… and holding it there.  My mind was exploding all over the place because I could feel the tip of his finger against my prostate, making it very difficult for me to to just lie there and let him do his thing… and I guess he could sense it because he started to slowly fuck his finger in and out of me as he returned to sucking my dick.  He was making me insane and I was losing control of myself; I knew I should stay still but, fuck, I just couldn’t, not when his tongue was wreaking havoc with my very sensitive knob and his finger was poking me in the ass.

Then he went very still and I thought, “Uh-oh…;” his finger was all the way in my ass when he lifted his head off my dick and said, “I get it now… I just didn’t know doing this could be so goddamned good…” – and then he went batshit on my dick.  He yanked his finger out of my ass, removed his other hand from my dick and slid both hands under my ass, gripping my ass cheeks tightly and began to urgently shove me into his mouth and, well, okay, while my mind was trying not to fuck his mouth – and miserably failing, I might add – my body was all for it… and things got a little fuzzy at this point and got even fuzzier when he started pushing me to the edge of the cliff.

“I’m gonna cum…” I somehow managed to say, uttering the warning that, at least to me, is a very decent thing to do; nothing will fuck this situation up more than to just bust a nut in the other guy’s mouth without warning… and even if he’s expecting you to do just that.  All he did was moan his understanding and my body said, “Fuck it… I can’t hold this anymore…”

Now it was my turn to be cursing and, yeah, calling on a lot of folks to give me some assistance as I shot my load into his mouth and it was such a delicious feeling to be made to cum.  Oddly, the part of my mind that wasn’t affected by any of this wanted me to open at least one eye to see if he was doing okay with this… and managed to get both eyes open and in time to see him looking up at me as he worked on swallowing what I had to offer and I think that if he could have smiled, he would have.

I could feel myself beginning to soften and I was very thankful that he somehow knew not to let his tongue touch my knob but I also noticed that he hadn’t let go of me yet; I guess he was discovering that even a soft cock can feel good in your mouth.  He finally let me go and now he was smiling and I could even guess why he was:  He understood that sucking a man’s dick and letting him cum in your mouth and you swallowed it all down really, honestly, and truly wasn’t as bad as it’s purported to be and, yeah, he was quite proud of himself as well.

“Wow,” I said smiling back at him.  “Are you sure you’ve never done this before?  That was fucking amazing!”

His grin got wider, saying, “Nope, never done it before… and now I’m wondering why I never did this before now… and I am wondering if we can, um, if we can do this again.”

It took longer for us to cum the second time; the sofa got abandoned and we took it to the floor because it gave us the room we needed for him to experience being in a 69.  It was all very hot and delicious as we worked to make each other insane with oral pleasure and, lest it be forgotten, spending a bit of time checking out each other’s prostate before it all dissolved into the mindless moment of release for the two of us.

Later, after we got dressed and otherwise got our shit together, we sat and talked – well, he talked and I listened; he was telling me how amazed he was that he enjoyed sucking my dick and that he didn’t think he could do it until he started doing it; he was also… miffed, I’d have to say, because he was now regretting never having this experience before now and telling me that he had, in fact, passed up several chances to experience this.  “I was scared… but, then again, I wasn’t – does that make sense?”

“It does,” I said.  “You handled it all very well and better than some guys doing this for the first time.”

As he prepared to leave, I was smiling as how eager he was to get with me and do this again.  He had a greater air of confidence mixed with the thrill of having done something that two men aren’t supposed to do with each other; he even suggested that when we met again, perhaps I’d be interested in helping him out with something else he’d been wondering about – yeah, you probably guessed what that was and, yes, this all took place before I issued the edict against anal sex.  The very short version of this was that I did fuck him and, as expected, he had mixed feelings about that, just as he did about fucking me.  He said both things were okay but he also felt that he probably needed to do it a few more times before deciding on whether or not he really enjoyed it.

I don’t know if he ever got the answer because I didn’t see him again.  Still, it is always a very special moment when a guy gets it; he  understands that everything he was ever told about having sex with another man being wrong, dirty, and nasty wasn’t quite the truth.  It’s really special to see another man throw off his fears and step into this “unknown territory,” to see his fear and uncertainty turn into acceptance and, indeed, courage because being sucked off by another man – and doing some sucking of your own – is always scary at first and I know that I appreciate what it takes for a guy to do these things for the very first time.

 
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Posted by on 28 August 2015 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts

 

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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: “Make Me…”

I was never really a fan of combining role playing and sex when I was a much younger man but at least in the environment I grew up in, you really couldn’t escape it unless, of course, you were one of those folks who’d hear the word “sex” and go running for the hills.  For those of us brave enough – or, if you like, crazy enough – to stay put, well, let the games begin.  I’ve mentioned this in past scribblings but the adult in me is often amazed how a lot of the childhood games we played were just an excuse to have sex (again, depending on who you were playing with); games like “Hide and Seek,” “Cowboys and Indians,” and “Army” were perfect situations to get laid because you were out of the sight of the other players or you got captured and “tortured” for information.

One of the games I’d find myself playing – and with a lot of initial reluctance – was “Master and Slave…” and it always seemed to turn out that I’d be the Master, a role that the adult who’s writing this kinda cringes over but the kid I was, well, okay, I thought it was quite crazy but if we agreed that we wanted to do it and you looked at me with that sexual hunger in your eyes and said, “Make me…,” it would be on… and I can admit that the resulting sex was pretty damned good because at the other guy’s request, I’d make him give it up even though I’d have to do some “work” to get to the delightful end result.

Making someone submit to the sex – and when they wanted to do it all along – didn’t make sense to me; I mean, if you wanna do it, let’s just do it.  I had an “edge” in that I was quite the accomplished judoka (someone who learns judo) and one of the things we learned to do is how to make someone submit or surrender; what you want to do is to make an opponent stop wanting to fight you and anyone reading this who has been trained in this art knows that you learn some pretty interesting ways to make someone submit or surrender by tapping out or say, “Matei!” – I quit!  I learned rather quickly how to apply this mindset with those guys who liked to be made to submit and surrender – and happily so, I might add; the more they resisted, the harder I tried to make them submit, imposing my will, physical prowess and, yep, a few things I learned in judo to make them give up and do my bidding.  My “victims” enjoyed it; they’d either get the mouthful of cum they wanted or feel good about having my spunk leaking out of their asshole.  Me?  Well, okay, I can admit that once I got into my role as Master, I was in it to win it… but it wasn’t that big of a turn-on for me… but I also had to admit that conquering them and, as a result of my, um, dominance, spilling my load into them in some way felt pretty damned good.

Back then, I was learning something important about men and sex… but it was a lesson that actually escaped me for quite a few years and I had thought about those earlier days in more detail.  I saw what “Master and Slave” was really all about and, well, it didn’t make me feel all that good and, on top of that, the “slave” behavior confused me because when I wasn’t having sex with these guys, some of them were the kind of dudes you did not ever want to fuck with unless getting your ass kicked was something you truly enjoyed.  Yet and still, when they wanted to do it, they always wanted to be the slave, the one to be commanded and made to submit to the demands of the master – me even though I will also admit at this point is I don’t know why these guys would single me out for this, um, honor; I knew that if and when they did it with other guys, “Master and Slave” wasn’t even being played.

I remember this one guy who, when he got horny, would challenge me to a test of skill, his wrestling against my judo and he’d always tell me, “If you win, I’ll do whatever you tell me to do, okay?”  Okay, the first time this jumped off, I won – I made him quit and, um, okay, I’m sure you can guess what things I made him do per the conditions of his surrender.  But every time after that?  I was baffled because, one, he kept coming back with this challenge and two, he never won and it wasn’t because he wasn’t trying to win either – he’d put up great resistance, believe me.  After his latest “loss,” I asked him why we always had to do it like that – after a while, you kinda get tired of the scrapes and bruises – and he told me that he just liked it more when I made him do it.  Even more baffling was the fact that he wasn’t the only guy who’d said something like that when the game was anything like “Master and Slave.”

One day, a whole lot of years later, I was sitting and thinking about these particular moments and I kinda/sorta understood the role playing thing; it still wasn’t my cup of tea but, yeah, I could play the game just the same.  But something hit me:  They’d always say, “Make me…” and I’d go about making them do what I wanted… or was I really the “slave” and was really doing what they wanted me to do?  Man, didn’t that fuck with my head!  I thought about things like me telling my “slave,”  “Crawl over here and suck my dick… now!” and how he’d “whimper” and “plead” with me to not make him do this bad thing… even as they crawled over and greedily latched onto my dick.  Or how I’d “force” them onto their belly and commanding that they be still and while they “begged and pleaded” for me not to stick in them… even when they were already arching their asses upward to make it easier for me to get into them.

I saw that I would command my slave to let me suck his dick – and with the usual “complaining” going on and, sometimes, with a little physical resistance so that I’d have to hold them down so I could eat their dick – and right along when I would command them to fuck me and, yep, I’d have to “make” them put it in me and, for a little more fun, command and make them cum inside me.  The older version of myself looked at this and would shake his head about all of it and the things we’d do as kids to have sex with each other; I also saw that, upon further review of the detail, nah, I wasn’t fond of “Master and Slave” but, yeah, if that was the game being played, I’d play it, I’d do whatever the game called for and, no, the resulting sex never really bothered me but, again, the grown up did seriously wonder who was the master and who was the slave when I was doing exactly what they wanted me to do.

Shit, I still wonder about that at times.  I don’t pretend to fully understand the whole “make me” dynamic and that in those moments, I was actually into a BDSM form of role playing; understanding this, well, it troubled me since there’s this “directive” to never make anyone have sex even when doing so wasn’t really a problem.  When I was older, I’d play “Master and Slave” with women who got off nicely when I’d do whatever they wanted to get them to submit, some “easily,” some with a degree of, ah, effort that still bothers me to this day because during these, ah, sessions, I was learning that taking the role of “Master” to the more, um, ‘extreme’ levels was pretty damned enjoyable… and very damned scary, like whenever a woman would beg me to slap her and do it like I really meant to slap the shit out of her; once, I damn near knocked this one woman out and it scared the shit out of me (don’t forget, I know how to hit people in some very effective ways); not only did she enjoy the force of the slap, it made her squirt like a fire hose!

It bothered me so much that after we finished fucking, I went into the bathroom and threw up all over the place (none of it made it to the toilet); I was not only sick because of the things I did to her, I was sick because I fucking loved every second of it.  Given the way my mind works, I quickly learned that there’s a danger in this and more so since I know some interesting ways to inflict pain and I also knew that being able to control this just wasn’t gonna happen.  Sure, I’ll “wrestle” with a woman and hold her down as she “resists” and I’m okay with that but anything more than that?  Nope – ain’t no fucking way I’m ever going there again.  I’ve run into men who wanna play the grownup version of “Master and Slave” and, yes, I understand that it gets them off like a motherfucker to be made to submit and the harder I put the hammer down on them, the more they like it.  I was at the point where I’d tell such men, “Look, if I gotta go through all of this to have sex with you, I’d rather not do it at all…”  They’d be disappointed that I didn’t want to play the game with them and I could never really get them to understand why I didn’t want to play it the way they needed it, like the one guy who, once he understood that I’m a judo black belt, wanted me to forcibly take him using those skills… and I asked him, “Are you out of your fucking mind?  You do understand that I’m a trained killer, don’t you?”

Apparently, that was a great turn-on for him.  I wasn’t going to oblige him – there is a point I will not go beyond – but, yeah, I got played because he took a swing at me and my instincts kicked in and, well, let’s just say that when the sex was over and done with, he needed an arm in a sling for a few.  He loved getting his ass kicked; he was nutting all over the place and that was way before I got my dick into him.  I felt… disgusted with myself because (a) he used my automatic response to his “attack” to get me to respond and (b), um, that was a rather nice release I had after pounding his ass as hard as I could.  He made me feel even worse when he actually thanked me for giving him what he wanted and needed and, once again, even though he was being forced into the role of the “unwilling slave” and being forcibly made to do my bidding, I wondered who was really the slave in all of this because, after all, he did get me to do something I really didn’t want to do, didn’t he?

And then he wanted to see me again and me, like an idiot, went to see him… but I walked out when I saw he had broken out the handcuffs, a couple of nasty looking flails, and some even nastier looking nipple clips.  When he asked why I was leaving, I just told him, “There’s a point I will not go beyond – and this is that point.  You got me the last time… but that was the last time.  Now, if you wanna do this without all that… shit, then fine; if not, I’m just gonna go.”  I wound up just going, too, even though I felt I understood his need to be made a slave, to be made to submit and by any means necessary and, yes, I knew I could do it, too, and in the way he preferred…

I also knew that I shouldn’t do it, that the ends, in this case, didn’t justify the means; I also knew that the beast inside of me who actually loved this shit shouldn’t ever be allowed out of its prison because I lacked the mindset to keep it safely under control.  Future encounters with men who’d say, “Make me…” were disappointing for them because it just wasn’t worth it to me to make them do something they wanted to do in the first place and, no, it still fucked with my head trying to figure out who was really the “master” in this and simply because I’d slavishly give them exactly what they wanted and in the way they wanted it.

I have a dark side that loves shit like this; I know it, I’ve seen it… and it needs to stay locked away.  The last time I ran into a guy who was into this, he was into being choked while trying to suck dick and, yes, I know a few ways to do that… but I also know how fucking dangerous it is, too, so I told him that while I’d be happy for him to suck me off, there was no fucking way in hell that I was going to choke him while he was doing it, emphasizing that even thought I know how to choke someone out, it’s way too easy to accidentally kill them – and no sex is worth running that risk.  He verbally abused me pretty good, I have to say, and he was still cursing me lustily as I walked out… and I didn’t care how pissed he was or how cowardly he felt I was by denying him his particular pleasure; what I did care about was never going beyond that point for any reason unless, of course, I’m protecting myself.

I even pissed off the guy I fell in love with; he, too, tricked me into forcibly impose my will upon him, something I never forgave him for even though I understood it; still, whenever he wanted me to make him have sex with me, well, he’d be unhappy because I wasn’t going there and, nope, ya fooled me once, darling one, but don’t kid yourself into thinking you can fool me twice.  He’d beg and plead to be made to submit; this wasn’t his “usual” way to have sex but, well, he liked being roughed up and enslaved from time to time.  Oh, he’d try his best to fuck with my head, telling me that if I really loved him, I would do this because it would make him happier and that beast would hear this and whisper in my ear, “Come on, unlock this fucking cage and let me at him!  It’ll be fun!  Don’t worry – nothing’s gonna happen, okay?”

And I wouldn’t do it, not even for the sake of love.  Okay, yeah… I’d spank him whenever I’d take him from behind and talk big time shit to him… but to let the beast out so he could be taken the way he really wanted to be taken?  Nope – not gonna happen… and I was okay with that and was okay with him being unhappy about it.  Sometimes, he’d ask me about the times I played the game of “Master and Slave” and I found it fascinating how excited he’d get as I told him of the things I’d done to other men; shit, he’d get so excited that he’d bust a nut in his pants/underwear!  If we were naked and talking about it, damn, imagine the look on my face when I’m talking about how my “slave” wanted me to rough him up – and my lover shot a huge load of sperm into the space between us!  I was like, “Did you just…?”

And he’d look at me with those dreamy green eyes and say, “Oh, I sure as hell did!  Make me do it again, just like that…”

Today, as I thought about writing all of this, man, it kinda makes me uncomfortable; of course, you can’t see me as I’m typing this but I’ve been shaking my head, rolling my eyes, and making all kinds of faces that you’d probably find pretty funny.  Am I ashamed of having been cast into the role of “Master?”  Do I feel guilty about some of the shit I did to make a guy willing to have sex with me submit even further… and because that’s what got him off the best?  Nah, not really – I got over the shame and guilt of this particular thing a long time ago… but I remember it and I know that even though I can do it, it’s not my idea of fun in the bedroom; I also remember being introduced to the dark side of myself and, well, I don’t really like that side of myself too much; I remember how much that side of me would enjoy it when a guy “defiantly” said, “Make me… come on, make me do it…”  Today, I understand the level of control that is mandatory to play the game like this… and I can now easily admit that I lack that kind of control so when someone says to me, “Make me…,” well, I hope you forgive me when I don’t try to make you do something you wanted to do in the first place.  The logic of it tends to escape me but, again, at the same time, I kinda/sorta understand it but, yeah, even though I will never profess to fully understanding it, I do understand myself.

There are some things that are best left alone.  Way back in the beginning, it was all relatively harmless sexual fun… but it’s really not my idea of fun.  Yes, I’ve told y’all that there is something sexual that I will not do and it doesn’t make me feel badly about writing about this; writing this was actually kinda therapeutic because, if nothing else, it keeps me in touch with myself and how far I’m willing to go to please and be pleased and the real bottom line about being bisexual:  Always understand who and what you are… and never, ever forget it and that there is a point you should never go beyond for any reason.  Yeah, that point varies from person to person but, damned right, it’s something you should always be aware of.

Time to go and check out Linda’s new wallpaper on her tablet and iPad… and I’ll talk to y’all some other time, okay?

 
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Posted by on 25 August 2015 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts

 

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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: “Why Indeed?”

In his comment to “TBT:  The Guilt Trip,” Myarousal said, “…I member when I was younger with my best friend Rene. He was always feeling guilty when we first began sucking each others cocks. I used to ask him why. He always said because we aren’t supposed to do that……I would ask…… “then why do you?”

Why indeed?  This writing is a bit of a return about feeling guilty about being bisexual and more so if you’ve thrown down with some sex at any point in your life.  Once more, it’s “normal” to feel guilty anytime you do something you know you’re not supposed to do, like, getting with your best friend and sucking the daylights out of each other and then if you feel (or felt) guilty, the question you should be asking yourself is why do you keep doing it?

For most of us, the question is, in fact, a rhetorical one and pretty damned obvious:  We keep (or kept) doing it because we wanted to, because it felt good to do it unless, of course, it was one of those situations where one is forced to do it and, yes, this includes peer pressure but I’m not talking about these exceptions at this time.  For all those bisexuals who haven’t taken the sexual plunge – but are feeling guilty over their thoughts, it’s a slightly different question, i.e., if you keep thinking about this, have you given any thought as to why you can’t banish these salacious and intriguing thoughts from your mind even though you know you’re not supposed to have them at all?  I’ve known a lot of bisexuals who have fervently wished that they could stop thinking about bisexuality and, despite their best efforts, they can’t stop the thoughts and feelings from showing up and because they can’t, they feel guilty.  These folks in particular always seem to spend more time feeling guilty and thinking about why they shouldn’t be feeling and/or thinking about these things than they do pondering why they’re feeling and thinking like this to begin with.

Guilt, as I allowed yesterday, is a very powerful and conditioned emotion; you do something “wrong,” you should always feel badly about it… except, um, if you keep doing something “wrong” and you keep feeling guilty about doing it, there has to be a reason why (a) you keep doing it and (b) you continue to feel guilty about something that, in fact, you enjoy doing – the phrase “guilty pleasure” exists for a reason, right?

In my own experiences, I’ve encountered folks who have gotten with me, had a fun good time, but then have felt guilty about it.  The first time, okay, it’s not hard to figure out why Guilt is paying them a visit… but for those who came back for more of the same, well, we’re back to the question Myarousal asked:  Why do you keep doing it?  I’ve seen folks tap dance all around the obvious answer by saying things like, “It sounded like a good idea at the time…” or “I felt that if I didn’t, you’d be disappointed or upset…” or similar things.  I never discount these things but there are some things that kinda stand out, like the lessons we are supposed to learn about thinking first before acting, or, if you know you’re getting ready to do something wrong, then don’t do it and no matter how great the urge is to do it.  We all learn this right and proper approach to dealing with things and, by and large, we stay true to this… sometimes… and when it comes to things sexual, well, sometimes it is easy to resist the urge to do something or to resist any “pressure” being put upon you to do something but, really, if the proposition hits the table and you’re out of your clothes and diving right in, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to feel guilty about something that you wanted to do, does it?

Now, I’ve encountered a few guys who have told me, “I don’t like the way this makes me feel!” and one can reasonably assume that Guilt is tap dancing all over their tonsils but the question I’ve asked is a simple one:  “If you don’t like the way this makes you feel, why do you keep doing it?”  Some have said that they keep “making the same mistake” because they’re hoping that maybe the next time they do it, they won’t feel some kind of way about doing it.  I’ve asked them if they like doing whatever – sucking dick, fucking, etc. – and some have reluctantly admitted that, yes, they do like whatever they’re doing… but, at least to me, they clearly cannot mitigate the guilt they’re feeling.  I even understand that when Guilt doesn’t start kicking you in the ass before the fact, it can show up in the middle of things or wait until you bust a nut and then show up to fuck with you.  I understand this because there was a time when Guilt would do this to me; I’d be peeling off my clothes and Guilt’s telling me, “You know you shouldn’t be doing this!” or I’d be in the middle of having sex and Guilt will deliver the same message or Guilt lies in wait for me to have my sexual fun and then, when I cum, snap-kick me in the gut and tell me, “You know good and damned well you shouldn’t have done this and enjoyed it!”

Which, obvious, didn’t change the fact that I did it and enjoyed it, huh?  And it sure as hell didn’t stop me from doing it again, did it?

So, yeah, I know how Guilt can fuck with you about this and while I’ve never learned to put a permanent gag on Guilt, I did learn to ignore its dire warnings of wrongness.  Not for every situation life can throw at you but, nah, I choose not to listen to Guilt when it’s time to have some fun with another guy’s cock.  Guilt will continue to remind me that I shouldn’t have that guy’s dick in my mouth and I sure as hell shouldn’t be having fun doing it… and my response is, “Yeah, I know… so go away and let me handle this and maybe we’ll talk later… or not at all.”

Why do I keep doing something I know I shouldn’t be doing?  Because I love doing it and Guilt is designed to make me not like it and to not ever do it… and I gotta ask Guilt, “How’s that been working for you, hmm?”  I should feel guilty… but I’m not going to feel guilty for doing something I want to do and, at least for me, it’s all about who is driving the car here, me or the conditioning put in place to make me feel badly any time I go against the sexual rules and Guilt just ain’t gonna be behind the wheel and taking me places I don’t want to go.  Yes, it’s an effort of will to go against this conditioning; some of us have no problems putting Guilt in its place (behind a triple-locked door and in the deepest dungeon we can create in our minds) while others struggle with getting a grip on their feelings of guilt whenever they think, feel, or do something about their bisexuality.

I just recalled a moment when a guy was happily blowing me when he stopped, looked at me and said, “I shouldn’t be doing this – it’s wrong!” – and then went right back to sucking me with even greater gusto; when I asked him about that later – and, specifically why he didn’t stop when he realized he was doing something wrong – he said, “Shit, I was having fun sucking your dick!  I know I should have stopped but, fuck that!”  He told me that he was feeling guilty when it was my turn to suck him off and his guilt was telling him to make me cease and desist… but he overruled Guilt and went back to enjoying getting his brains sucked out through his cock.  We spent quite a bit of time talking about that guilty feeling that wants to stomp on us for even thinking about wanting some dick and how we manage to not pay it a lot of attention and “simply” because it doesn’t make sense to feel guilty about something you want and like to do.

When I’ve talked with those bisexuals who have to deal with Guilt – but have never taken the sexual plunge – like I said earlier, they find themselves wishing they could stop thinking and feeling the way they do and some go out of their way to prevent these thoughts and feelings from “invading” their minds and when they’ve asked me how they can make it all stop, I admit to not being able to answer the question because if there’s a way to shut your mind down like this, I’m not aware of it… and I’m not sure it’s really a healthy thing to do.  They wanna know if it’s “normal” to feel and think like this and I tell them that, yes, it is… even though the rules say we shouldn’t.  It creates a conflict within them and one that’s happening even when they’re not actively thinking about it; there’s the rules of right and wrong concerning sex and sexuality… and then there’s what your mind and body are telling you that is so contrary to those rules and now the question becomes one of exactly why are you fighting with yourself?  No, the answer isn’t always just to surrender to those feelings – but it is about not feeling guilty about what is obviously a part of the human condition and a condition that the rules have attempted to curtail… and not with a great deal of success, I might add; if the rules were 100% effective, there wouldn’t be any bisexuals in existence, let alone homosexuals, swingers, polyamorous folks, yada, yada.

So, yeah:  If you’re feeling guilty about doing it, why do you keep doing it?  If you feel guilty just thinking about it – why would you feel guilty about it and more so if the thoughts and feelings never really just “go away?”  And if you’re not questioning this, um, why aren’t you?  If you’ve thought about this and you’ve learned that either doing or thinking does, in fact, make you feel good and it feels right, ask yourself if it makes sense to feel guilty about any of it – and maybe you’ll see that it really doesn’t make sense and that the rules we’ve been conditioned to obey without question should be questioned.

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

 

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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: The Guilt Trip

So I was reading this blog – https://assentivelyyours.wordpress.com/2015/08/18/compulsion-a-sexual-nature/ – and I thought it was pretty damned good and I hope he doesn’t delete it but, at the same time, man, reading about the guilt trip he was on just pushed some buttons on me and got me thinking about this guilt trip that our morality and society just loves for us to be on.

We have sexual desires because it’s part of being human, yet we do some pretty fucked up shit to ourselves to either deny that we have these feelings or allow ourselves to be convinced that our desires should only be directed in a certain direction.  My man Assentively, like so many other married male bisexuals I know, feels guilty because he wants some dick and believes that because he is married and loves banging the shit out of his wife, he’s not supposed to have any other sexual desires.

And that’s bullshit of the highest order imaginable.  Okay, like I told him, yeah, the rules – be monogamous, heterosexual, and semper fidelis (always faithful) – might prevent him from going out and getting up close and personal with another man’s cock; those same rules also say or  otherwise imply that if he gets horny, it should only be for his female wife.  The problem Assentively and other married bisexuals face is that what they feel – the desire for some same-sex action – is very and seriously real… but those damned rules (and the adherence to them) says that these feelings should always be ignored and if you can’t, well, you should feel very guilty.

I don’t know about any of you but I have a very difficult time trying to ignore the fact that I’m horny just like I know how totally frustrating it can be to be horny and not be able to do anything about it… but I’m not going to feel guilty because I’m with Linda and have great desire for her… but knowing that I can crave cock at any given time and without prior notification.  It just is what it is, a part of the whole ball of wax when you’re bisexual.

We have all been conditioned and programmed to feel guilty for wanting something other than what we’re told we can have.  If you’re married to a wonderful woman and you feel sexual desires for some other woman, you’re as wrong as it gets and you should feel guilty for your wickedness; if, by chance, it’s dick you desire as well, that makes you even more in the wrong and you now have to feel quadruply guilty, you perverted bastard!

The question one should ask in this is, “Why should I feel guilty?” then pay very close attention to the answers that’ll pop into your head right off the bat… then ask yourself if those answers really and truly make sense and maybe you’ll discover, as many married bisexuals have found, that they don’t make sense; morality and other societal things wouldn’t be aggressively trying to stop you from having “extra” feelings if they didn’t know it’s damned possible for a person to have them, right?

It’s easy to tell yourself that you shouldn’t feel these things because the rules say you’re not supposed to… but does that really change the fact that you’re having those feelings?  Nope – it sure doesn’t; otherwise, you wouldn’t be having this conversation with yourself, would you?  I don’t know about other married bi guys but I’m just not ever going to feel guilty for (a) being bisexual and (b) having the desire to make a hard dick a soft one.  I might not do anything about my feelings but, fuck no, I’m never going to feel guilty for having the feelings and desires.  Yep, in this, I thumb my nose at morality because I understand that, logically, it’s flawed and it does the one thing that just rubs me the wrong way:  It seeks to control my feelings and “make” me do things in a way that clashes with the human being I am.

Homey ain’t trying to hear that; I’m not trying to hear that I should feel guilty because I have a magnificent woman but I still want to suck cock and no one and nothing is going to make me go on a guilt trip that I know is totally unnecessary.  These are my feelings; I own them and, yes, I have a responsibility to keep them in check when called for – that means not doing something about what I’m feeling – but I can’t say it enough:  I’m just not ever going to feel guilty because I want to suck dick… because it doesn’t make sense to feel guilty and, better, it doesn’t make sense for me to let guilt run my life.  Yes, guilt is a powerful emotion and one that can overwhelm a person and in some very bad ways so if I want to avoid having to undergo years of therapy and being so medicated that I wind up being a zombie – and I say this without offense to Assentively – then letting guilt be in control is something I just cannot allow to happen.

Do I know I’m breaking the rules?  Of course I do but ask me if I give a fuck about that so much that I’m gonna feel guilty about it… and I think you can guess how I’d answer.  Yes, one part of me “knows” I should be feeling so much guilt it isn’t even funny but the bigger part of me says, nope, ain’t going there; taking that guilt trip is worse than wanting to suck another man’s cock.  I can’t make other bi guys not feel guilty about their same-sex desires but I can ask them to question whether or not it makes sense to feel guilty over being who and what they are.

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

 

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