Exploring this new sex thing I’d been introduced to was exciting and more so when I learned that quite a few of my male friends had either found out about it or wanted to know about it. I’m remembering those early days and recalling how we’d make our pricks hard with our fingers or our mouth and… giggling like girls. Then being humped and, ah, that felt really nice and more so if a guy could get it between my cheeks – then one of us figured out how we could stick it in back there and, well, ouch, don’t stick it in that fast but that, too, felt wonderful and with or without giggling.
If it felt that good, it couldn’t have really been as bad as I was told. Once we all were onboard or chose not to do this (out of fear of all holy hell descending upon them), we were off and running with it; learning from and teaching each other the things we were learning on the whole. Having a favorite guy or two that you didn’t even have to ask him The Question because you knew that if you were with each other, doing it was a given – and depending on where we were and all that.
The guys you’d “just do it with” tended to ask if you wanted to and then there were the guys you may not have known – well or at all – who’d be eager to get you naked and, well, okay, I guess. I didn’t know about the other guys but if someone wasn’t one of my favorites, eh, I didn’t much mind or care if they didn’t want to do it or if they asked me… but one of my favorites? Heck yeah!
One day, I’m sitting on the wall outside of my apartment building and just… sitting there when I looked down the street and saw one my favorites coming; he saw me and waved and I waved back and I could tell by the smile on his face what we were going to be doing in a few minutes. No disappointment here and, again, asking wasn’t a requirement; he said “Let’s go!” and off we went to the closest hideout.
Clothes came off; dicks got sucked; cum was swallowed. Ah… so good… just so good. We’re resting to get ready for the next thing – screwing each other – and my favorite friend… didn’t seem like himself today but I didn’t pay much attention to that and having it make me ask him what was wrong. About, oh, five or ten minutes later, I sucked his dick until he got hard; he pulled out a baby food jar that contained some Vaseline that he swiped from home; we get greased up, he mounts me and I sigh because I “loved” the way his dick would slid into me and, man, he can do this to me all day!
He’s screwing me and covering me with his whole body and that’s what allowed to feel… something wet on my face; I kinda get my head turned to look at him and he’s crying and now I wanna know what’s wrong.
“This is the last time we can do this,” he says and on the verge of openly sobbing.
“Why?” I asked and having a feeling in my stomach that didn’t feel good.
“Because we gotta move,” he said.
I can’t recall what I was thinking to hear that but I know it made that feeling in my stomach worse. He screws me and cums in me; we switch places and as I’m screwing him, now he’s openly crying and talking about how he didn’t want to move away from me and the rest of our friends and I was getting all choked up because it seemed to me that every time I made a favorite friend like this guy, something always happened to separate us. Like, one of my favorite girls – and, I think, the “founding member” of the Hot in the Ass gang – loved doing it with me because, at first, I could shoot the baby-making stuff and she’d wanted to taste mine and to shoot it in her and, I wouldn’t “officially” say that we were in love but, looking back, it sure felt like it.
Then she died. We all had been wondering why we hadn’t seen her for a while but when her mother told us that she had died, it was because she’d gotten really sick and, well, she was in heaven now. Learning this hurt us all very hard and if nothing else, it made us cherish the friendships we still had but… things change; some of these sexually close friendships got ended due to “irreconcilable reasons;” some got broken up under parents invoking “bad influence” on someone and, yeah, they got broken when someone moved away.
This never felt good and since this was going to be our last time, it made the moment really special. This sad moment took place three weeks before I was due to head off for summer camp (again); my friend was gone a week after our last time together and, well, I had other friends to “console” me; I went to camp, kinda made myself have a good time – and being able to have sex with some of the guys in my cabin went a long way to ease the sadness I felt over losing a favorite friend and lover.
Then I get home from camp and find out that… we moved. I was pissed beyond being pissed! I hadn’t known anything about this and, worse, I’d been at camp for two weeks and my parents had more than enough time to write me and tell me about this; I’d get a letter from home and telling me what’s going on, asking how I’m doing, stuff like that but I would learn that my siblings were swore into silence about this event and… I was pissed. I let my parents know, on the way “home” that I wasn’t happy; I didn’t get to say goodbye to my friends, didn’t want to leave them – y’all know about this, right? – and even though they told me that I could always come back to the old neighborhood to see them, it… wasn’t the same and that was revealed when I first went back to where I grew up and it was good to see them again but I could tell that the bond I had with the fellas was irrevocably broken.
My father had said, “That’s just how life can be, Junior; you’ll get over it and make new friends.” He (and my mom) were right about that but handling the loss of the really close friends I grew up with – and explored sex with – was pretty devastating. One of the life lesson’s learned in junior high school was you could be some girl’s boyfriend in the morning… and she’d be someone else’s girlfriend by lunchtime. Dealing with a new form of pecking order that was a great departure from elementary school’s social atmosphere and while I didn’t have that much of a problem making new friends, it was difficult to make friends with guys who… wanted to have sex with me and who would be a favorite, you know, someone I could really relate to and having sex was a part of things.
I wouldn’t find such a guy until I met my boyfriend and in my early 20’s. By this time, I’d gotten thoroughly indoctrinated in the fact that nothing is forever. Nothing. Sure, I was having sex with guys all along because, um, why not, but I – and other guys – seemed to be looking for that one guy – or maybe two – who they could be totally open with and not having to hide our weird and dual sexual interests.
“If it wasn’t for bad luck, you wouldn’t have any luck at all.” I – and others – learned to say this… a lot. Just when you think you found someone who really resonated with you, something would come along to fuck it up and it didn’t matter if the person who resonated with you – and specifically me – was male or female. I would eventually meet the girl who’d I fall in love with, she had my baby, and we got married “down the road a little bit” and that part of things was good and right and even according to “plan,” as it were.
But being able to find that one “special” guy continued to elude me until, again, I met the guy who’d I’d fall in love with and we had a real-deal relationship. And, yeah, I was once again devastated when circumstances lined up to take him away from me but, intelligently, I understood why he had to go but emotionally? Yeah… if it wasn’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have any luck at all in this. Now having permission to have sex with anyone I could convince, it wasn’t like there weren’t guys I could have sex with and it wasn’t like I didn’t have a few “repeat customers” but… that’s not the same as having that guy you could confide with and there were zero secrets between you. After losing my boyfriend, it wasn’t like I was looking for another boyfriend and, in retrospect, I was more likely to be looking for an FWB – but, at the time, I had no… notion of this concept.
I thought that because there was no real lack of dick, not having that confidant got put on the shelf. Guys I had sex with came and went and… fine. But I had grown up being told that men… didn’t get close to each other like that; the shit I was learning in school was that we were seen more like competitors to each other which actually made sense given that we were competing for female affections and, yeah, that delicious pussy. Like, in high school, there were a couple of guys who were close friends and close enough that if some sex was “what the doctor ordered,” well, okay, but we didn’t exactly bare our souls to each other and, remember, way back in the 1970s, it was still deemed to be impossible to have such deep feelings for a dude and I, too, didn’t believe it was possible.
In a way, being male and bisexual – and being deep into dick-slinging with like-minded guys – wasn’t that much of a problem (or, really, more than such things can be) but I’d become aware that there was some… emotional stuff that wasn’t being taken care of since I’d lost my last favorite friend/lover and prior to me moving to another part of the city. I needed it and… wasn’t finding it, well, until… my very gay boyfriend.
With him, good Lord, I learned some stuff about myself that I hadn’t known before and had my whole viewpoint changed about what being in love could really mean and that sexuality really didn’t mean a whole lot. I was bi; he was very gay and while he’d told me that one of the reasons why he fell in love with me was because I was bisexual, he’d given me a look into an aspect of sexuality I’d never really seen before outside of merely having sex with a gay guy and experiencing drama because he might be looking for a boyfriend and, yeah, that’s not gonna happpen because it’s not supposed to and it’s impossible and… hell, no, it wasn’t impossible and it did happen and… it was fucking amazing if not very damned weird.
I would, only then, realize that “back in the day,” I’d had feelings for those favorite friends/lovers… but it wasn’t like this. Not even close. I recalled the moment I fell in love with my wife and falling in love with my boyfriend… felt the same way. Recalling asking both of my parents how I would know when I fell in love with someone and them telling me, “Oh, you’ll know it!”
Yeah, I sure as hell did. We were friends; we were lovers and in love with each other and we could confide in each other and in a way that felt right and comfortable. We… learned some sexuality stuff with and from each other and I’d never felt so… complete. Then it was over. That reminder that nothing is forever and that, sometimes, the more you want something, you get it and… it goes away and just when it really starts to get good. It is, in fact, one of those facts of life that you kinda get used to but not really.
It would be decades before I found another guy that I felt that I was damned near in love with him and just like damned near every time this happened in the past, it was glorious and… eventually went away. Having my relationship with him vanish like smoke was something I knew was going to happen – I just didn’t know when but experience had taught me that I had to get the most out of every moment because that day was inevitably going to come and you’d think that if you know for a fact that it’s going to end, it would soften the blow when it did.
For me, it did and didn’t all that much. There’s nothing wrong with the sexual aspects of things because, um, we’re guys and known – and prone – to slinging the dick on each other. I felt that once I got my emotions “opened up” with and by my boyfriend, there was a… void to be filled and one that sex – and no matter how good it was – couldn’t begin to touch. It made me feel… incomplete. Would another boyfriend be the ticket? It could have save for the drama that had invaded the whole dynamic (and from my point of view). As a guy, I was used to women making demands – just part of the deal, a necessary evil, and occupational hazard, right? But now, men are making similar demands; I’d better have a job and making more money than minimum wage; I had to have a car and a house and… wait, am I really having this conversation with a guy?
And then the guys who wanted to make me their bitch and sex slave and this was their idea of a “relationship.” Sheesh. And, by the way, this didn’t include the gay men who were making such demands and… who wants to be in a relationship with some telling you how it’s going to be and offering up portents of evilness if cheating happens and… yeah – bad enough to be married to a woman but, as I would tell my protege one day, we put up with shit from women that we will not put up with coming from another dude..
I wasn’t – and I’m still not – looking to be in a relationship with a guy because I don’t need that level of drama and stress. I’d long since learned that sexuality and relationships are not joined at the hip and like it’s being said to be. Being told – and learning – that sex, in particular – is better when you’re in a relationship but also learning that you can be in a relationship with someone and having sex and… yawn. You pretty much wind up “phoning it in;” the thrill is gone and the fires we burned in back in the beginning may or may not be rekindled and… such is life, huh?
To me, a relationship based on sexuality… isn’t really a bad thing but I’ve never believed that it’s a necessity if all two guys wanted to do was get off at each other’s expense. It’s the environment I grew up in; we can suck/fuck/both – but the moment it even starts to feel like a relationship, the whole thing gets shut down. Having “repeat business” with a guy was fine because we’re friends and can have sex because it’s good when we get together or, yeah, friends with benefits but something handled without any emotional content other than a lot of lust and a degree of being friends… today. Later today, things could change. You… get to feeling some kind of way when the only time you saw a “regular” was when… he wasn’t getting any pussy; you could go a long time not seeing or even hearing anything about him but if he wasn’t getting any pussy, he comes a-knocking at your door and, um, yo, do you think we can do a little somethin’?
Oh, now you know and remember me, do you? No, I don’t think we can do anything… but this was still a big part of the dynamic and as I was beginning to get… a better look at. Being emotional with a guy was/is all well and good… but it wasn’t necessary. I’d get with a guy and the sex was all that and then some, but I wouldn’t even think about things going beyond this moment and even in those “rare” moments when I wouldn’t have minded things going to a next step… but if I don’t know about anyone else, I know about guys and how they can be about such things because, duh, I’m a guy.
As far as being in a “loving relationship” with a guy was concerned, for me, it became a question of… did I even want to be bothered with it? Relationships take work from beginning to end and it wasn’t like I wasn’t willing and able to put in that work when I was now in a relationship not only with my wife but two other women and, yeah, if you can handle that one, handling a relationship with a guy and doing all that work is a piece of cake… if I wanted to be bothered with it.
If you’re not willing to do the work, don’t take the job. I’m a very emotional guy and one who has worn my heart on my sleeve from the start and, yeah, who knew I could be that emotional with a guy? I sure as hell didn’t but that happened and… I’d never say never but as my venerable mother used to say, “You don’t go looking for trouble!” The last guy I’d gotten that close to… fucked it up for the both of us by making unreasonable demands on my time; started insisting that I drop whatever I’m doing because he wanted his dick sucked. Nothing is forever and, admittedly, I didn’t want to end what we had – and the bond that had been created – but, yeah, no, I don’t ask how high when you tell me to jump – had enough of that when I was in the military.
All of which tends to make me miss the good old days and waxing nostalgic. Things change and… nothing is forever. Nothing. You… take what you can get and do your best to make the best of it “while it lasts” because to not do this… is cheating and depriving yourself and regardless to sexuality but bisexuals aren’t immune to needing that special bond with a guy and, nope, it’s not gay at all.
But it is human.
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